Chapter 27: Breaking Point 2nd April 1996

The girls enjoyed a fairly relaxed morning at school. Erin was as tired as she expected to be, having gone to bed so late, so she was grateful for the relatively easy start to the day. Michelle wasn't mouthing off too much either, which left everything very quiet if truth was to be told. There were less reporters around too, Orla able to join them in their usual spot at break without the threat of being interviewed.

"Ye see Moira wasn't in". Michelle said to them all as they tucked into their bags of sweets, apart from Orla, who was watching her weight still for the racing.

"Aye". Erin responded first. "I'm hardly surprised".

Danny's arrest would have been soul destroying for Moira. Not that they cared less; the two of them were horrible people and quite frankly she deserved to be without him in all of their opinions.

"Maybe she's havin' to be questioned". Clare validly pointed out.

"Questioned… she's just Danny's girl… not like she's involved is it?". Michelle snorted in return.

"Well she could be!" Clare stood her ground with Michelle. "She might be involved for all we know".

"Wise up Clare…". Erin scoffed. "… she's all talk. She wouldn't do nothin'".

Michelle and Orla both nodded in agreement with Erin, Clare being forced to concede that they were most likely correct. Moira might have possessed a vicious tongue, but she was yet to truly physically challenge any of the girls, despite often posturing to do so. Though she might have disliked James, it wasn't as if she had it in her to hurt him.

"I still can't fuckin' believe they were goin' to kill James. Christ, he might be a dick, but ye can't say it's punishable by death". Michelle monologued.

"Michelle!" Erin complained at her description of him.

"Catch yourself on Erin! It's not like ye haven't thought he was a dick in the past…".

"He's very good to me…". Erin's mind wandered as she thought of him, Clare rolling her eyes as she knew exactly where those thoughts were leading to.

Michelle's grumbles put an end to any further discussion on the topic of James, Erin being lost in a dream world that she only vaguely came out of when Orla poked her to make sure she was still alive. Being so far lost in her thoughts of her wee English fella, Erin almost appeared to have frozen… she was very much enjoying where her mind was taking her…

"Have ye thought anymore about what I said Michelle?" Orla's question snapped Erin out of her trance.

"About being yer agent?" The young Mallon replied.

"Aye".

"Yeah… I've had a think about it".

Michelle was lying when she replied the second time. She'd been unable to get it off her mind all night, going to bed thinking about the offer and waking up thinking about. It was already bouncing around the walls of her mind as they were sat eating their sweets.

"I want to do it… I want to be yer agent".

"CRACKER!" Orla roared.

"That's brilliant Michelle!" Clare delightedly beamed. "Ye'll make such a good team".

"Of course… we're pack animals Clare!"

Pack animals was their preferred description, but with Michelle's acceptance of Orla's offer, that would be taking two of them out of the pack to go to England. The future was something they'd rarely considered before. With Orla winning the Grand National, the road ahead was changing, and it was beginning to come to the point where they had to plan.

"Have ye got any plans yerself Clare?" Erin asked her.

"What?" The diminutive blonde replied.

"Ye know… for the future. What ye might want to do…".

Clare didn't really know what she wanted to do. Professional cack attack artist wasn't a career path, that being her most obvious skill, though for a strange reason, teaching appealed to her. A primary school teacher was about the only job she'd considered, with the stresses of exams nowhere near as high, yet the stresses from children acting like… children… were much higher. However, she didn't want her friends to know that and ridicule her for being more scared than the kids would be.

"I have a few ideas". She responded with instead.

"What about you and dicko?" Michelle asked Erin.

"Well… I suppose I'll do a journalism degree… and James… I don't know. I haven't asked him".

Any chance for further questioning from Michelle was thankfully halted when Jenny and Aisling arrived. They'd stayed behind in the last lesson to put the tables and chairs back together after they'd been pushed to the side, with the gang electing to let them do it. It was far too much hard work for a Tuesday morning.

"Hey guys!" Jenny was as cheerful as ever.

"Morning Jenny. What's the craic?" Orla asked first.

"Me and Aisling… well we know with everything goin' on ye probably didn't have chance to do the French homework last night, so we've done ye some notes to help you's".

Although Jenny and Aisling might not have been as solid as Orla in the past few weeks, they'd reinforced the group with an additional layer of strength that was sorely needed. Anytime any of the girls felt like they needed a few minutes break, Erin mostly needing those breaks, they would make sure that they didn't miss anything when it came to schoolwork. It was the small touches like that which proved just how loyal friends the two were.

"Thanks Jenny". Erin pulled her in for a hug, Clare doing the same with Aisling.

"Yeah… that's proper class like". Michelle smiled softly.

"How many rhinos are left in Africa?"

She might have won the Grand National, but she was still Orla McCool.


James's morning ended up being a lot more taxing than the girls. Under the watchful eye of his guard, he went with the doctors to perform some movement exercises. They were trying to ascertain whether they could be certain to release him that Friday, and though he'd made remarkable progress so far, there was always a chance of that progress halting. He didn't mind the young cop having to watch him all the time, he was just doing his job, but James still couldn't help but feel like it was unnecessary. After all, the Scanlon's were in custody, they couldn't harm him if the cops had them.

Once the exercises were complete, he went back to the room with the guard, who he struck up a rapport with. The young officer Collins seemed to be a likeable enough bloke, sympathising with him over the situation he was in. James dropped off to sleep after his lunch, the effort still somewhat tiring him. It was all very peaceful until later that afternoon, when Collins woke him from the deep sleep. Immediately being overcome with apprehension, having been woken so suddenly, he was calmed by the officer who revealed that there was no danger… but he did have visitors. Joe was a welcome sight as he arrived in the room first and seconds later, he was shocked to find his mother too.

"Mum?"

"Oh love…".

She practically ran to him, hugging him tightly, the officer's lips curving into a slight smile along with Joe's. Kathy was a changed woman since she'd first returned following his attack, and Joe could attest to it from the car journey back from the airport. The entire journey Kathy fretted about his safety after the arrest of the Scanlon boys. Joe filled her in with the details he'd learned from Antony, only briefly aiding him to combat her fears, before she started worrying about who else might be out there to hurt her son. She'd allowed him to stay, supported his decision in fact, but with the cops only narrowly preventing a disaster, she had to question it. Getting James to leave Erin's side would be the hardest part. She certainly wouldn't leave Derry, it was her home, and her life was there, even if a significant part of it were to move away.

"What's the matter? Has something happened?"

The selfless James was always thinking of everyone else above himself, not allowing his own plight to cloud his wish to help those he loved.

"Those boys planning to hurt you… that's what has happened!" Kathy was slightly angered by his inability to see the reason.

"It was nothing…". He tried to shrug it off.

"Nothing?! They had guns James! They might have killed ye!"

"You sound like Erin". He huffed.

"She's a sensible young woman James! Do ye know what it could do to either of us!"

"I KNOW!" He shouted, his temper evaporating for once.

Joe, who'd stayed in the background during the opening exchanges, came forward to try to stop any argument ensuing.

"Come on son, ye stay calm there".

James was grateful for his intervention, Kathy too, though she was still going to be bringing up his safety. He couldn't escape her on that one.

"Are ye sure ye want to stay James?" She asked calmly.

"Yes mum. Of course I'm sure!"

"Son...". Joe cautioned as he flared up again.

The Englishman huffed and puffed at the question he wished that no one would ever ask again. He wasn't stupid, the around the clock guard showed him everything he needed to know; his safety wasn't exactly guaranteed. He just wished they'd stopped pointing out to him something he painfully knew because he was not going to be moved from his stance. Erin would never follow him to London, her place was in Derry with the rest of the family. The fear of receiving a punch or a bullet was nothing compared to the fear of losing Erin Quinn from moving away. He would never leave.

"I understand mum…". The calmer James began. "… I'm not exactly pleased about being unable to even step foot outside a Hospital room without the thought someone might be out to harm me. But I have a duty to Erin and to the girls… they need me, and I need them. There are exams coming up soon mum… I won't be responsible for them failing because I didn't have the guts to stomach the storm".

His passionate argument prevented Kathy from forming any type of counter. Though she'd forced herself to question the original decision to let him stay, the conclusion was quickly made that she could do nothing to change it. He was adamant that his life couldn't continue without them in it.

"Yer an honourable young man James". She kissed his cheek.

"Thanks mum".

The two hugged, sharing tears as Kathy finally let go of all of the pent-up tension she'd been carrying since the cops phoned her. Joe continued to remain a strong but silent presence, his hand coming to affectionately squeeze him on the shoulder like it often would.

"I've not seen a young man so honest in his convictions". Joe said to Kathy. "He's a credit to ye Kathy… I know I've said it to ye before but really… yer son is a fine young man".

They all shared smiles, James drying his eyes with a tissue provided by Kathy as she dried her own. Joe just admired the scene of their synchronised actions, an indicator that the days of their differences were definitely relegated to the past.

"And my Erin is lucky to have such an honourable man for a grandfather…". James looked up to Joe. "… Orla too".

"I wouldn't call myself that son. I've done plenty of things in my life that I'm not proud of… but having you come into my family has been one of the best choices. You too Kathy".

They sat together for a short while discussing the situation with the Scanlons, though without the cloud of tension that Kathy's arrival serenaded. Antony's visit to the house was soon outed to the shocked young Englishman too. When the Scanlon's were arrested, he'd naturally assumed that all of them were guilty of whatever was to be conducted. Hearing of the tale Joe had only just found out that morning, of how Antony Scanlon was not the man everyone thought him to be, it flummoxed him. He still couldn't work out why they wanted him dead… and if they attacked him in the first place… why they did so. Most of the city hated him because of his accent… but violence was something he hadn't properly encountered in the time he'd been in the city. Maybe I said something to Danny… maybe I was rude when I didn't realise…

"And Orla doesn't know?" He asked Joe as the older man finished the story.

"No Son… and I'd rather ye said nothin'… I think it's better it comes from me and her ma".

"Of course… I agree. I hope it doesn't upset her too much".

"She's tough… ye know that". Joe smiled.

He chuckled at the comment, knowing just how tough Orla was. In truth, when he'd denied her the chance of doing the gardening job not long after being left in Derry, he knew she was tougher than he was. And she still was. In the month of March 1996, he'd got his arse kicked and nearly died. She'd won the Grand National on a two hundred to one shot that she'd never ridden before. It wasn't really a contest, even if his scientifically unexplainable recovery was thrown into the mix, he would still say she was stronger.

"Oh James, the stuff ye wanted me to get is coming on Thursday".

"Right… thanks mum".

Joe went to ask, but before he could, the officer appeared in the doorway again with a wide smile on his face.

"Erin's on her way up the corridor".

Having spoken to officer Collins earlier in the day about his beloved, the officer was happy for him that he had someone like her. Young love was adorable, even to an RUC man.

Kathy, who seemed to have the ability to read into the future, without the need of tarot cards like Sarah, moved back out of the way. With Joe already well to the side too, there was a clear path for Erin to follow to reach James. Advancing into the room with a smile on her face, it dropped quickly when she first saw her Granda and then Kathy sat at the sides. She'd fully expected to return to her wee English fella alone.

"Granda… Kathy…". Her brows furrowed.

"Hello Erin love…". Joe addressed her first. "… good day at school?"

"Ach… not bad Granda".

Her brows remained furrowed, unwilling to give up her suspicions with the scene she'd found on walking into his room. Kathy was due to arrive on Thursday, not Tuesday, so her presence was the main mystery, although Joe's was also odd.

"How are you Erin?" Kathy addressed her in a friendly manner.

"I'm grand thanks…". Erin nervously fiddled with a long strand of her hair. "… I wasn't expectin' to see ya until Thursday…".

"I…". Kathy stuttered slightly. "… I was contacted by the Inspector ye see… I was so worried for James that I wanted to come and see him". She explained.

"Oh. Right… ye… of course". Erin awkwardly answered.

Joe found his moment to once again speak up, his gaze falling upon Kathy on the opposite side to him in order to convey his point.

"We were just leavin' weren't we Kathy".

Understanding what Joe was doing, Kathy grinned, and confirmed to Erin with a nod that they were indeed about to head out… despite the fact they had not been. Saying goodbye to his granddaughter with a hug, Kathy gave James a big hug and kiss, promising that she would come and visit him the following day. The two exited, saying their goodbyes to officer Collins, who glanced back into the room knowing he would be acting as a human do not disturb sign for the next few minutes….


Danny Scanlon was proving a tough nut to crack. Ever since some of the team arrested him at his school the day before, he'd gone down the road of giving nothing away. The Inspector prided himself on his ability to wear a criminal down over time, especially the young and thoughtless ones like Danny, but this time he appeared to have met his match. No comment was the stock answer to absolutely everything when it came to the young man. According to the Police tape of their interview, his name was name was no comment, born on the no comment of no comment… no comment. His gender was no comment. A secondary plan was required.

His mother.

Mrs Scanlon was an emotional wreck. Antony tried to support her the best he could, but she was left with a lot of questions upon what was in the shed. The cops wouldn't tell her or her eldest too much so it was left for her and her eldest to deduce what her other sons were planning. The poor wee English fella, who'd nearly died earlier that month, was going to be finished off and her boys were going to do it. Having spent years attempting to correct the family name's reputation for the better, it was a hammer blow to the progress she'd made. Sitting down on the other side of the table to her son, the Detective Inspector and a different Constable watching through the one-way mirror, Mrs Scanlon tried to break through.

"Danny…". She could barely speak, tears dripping down her face.

"Go home ma!" He told her straight, arms crossed and unwilling to make eye contact.

"Danny… please… why…".

"I said go home ma. I'm sayin' nothin'".

She couldn't believe that he would be so callous. The family reputation was of theft and violence; murder was a step that no member of the Scanlon family had sank too. Yet it appeared if they hadn't had ran out of paint that Monday lunchtime, he would have been the first one to do so along with Brian. They were not the boys she brought up. Someone else had done this to them.

"Who did this to ye?" She wailed. "Made ye so horrible!"

"The Brits ma! Do ye not understand… these Brits are our enemies! Ireland needs to be free of their filthy grasp!"

She continued to sob in front of her son, the Constable asking the Inspector if they should pull her out, but he told them to wait. A riled-up Danny might give something away.

"Listen to yerself… I've never spoken like this. Filled ye with these… ideas".

"Ye don't see it ma… I do".

"See what Danny? I see a version of my son I don't know… and it's killin' me".

Her cries didn't seem to move Danny at all. At least on the exterior it appeared that way. Inside was a different matter entirely. His mother was so good to him, yet he was going to let her sit there and cry. The better nature of Danny Scanlon told himself to end the games, explain everything to his mother, then seek forgiveness. But there was the cause…

"Why…". She started again. "… why the young Maguire boy. What's he done to ye?"

That was a question Danny couldn't answer with anything. James's record with him was clean, there was nothing that the fella had done to provoke him, other than being a Brit. That was enough though.

"He's a Brit ma!"

"But why him!" She shouted through the tears.

He winced, looking away from the broken woman that was his mother, not wishing to see her makeup-stained face again. It was too hard to look at.

"He's got family… people who love him. What if it was you in his position… imagine what yer Moira would be feelin'".

"Don't you bring her into this!" He snapped, rounding on his mother.

He was totally uncooperative with her after snapping, unwilling to look her in the eye or speak to her. The Inspector noted his reaction to Moira's name cropping up… how he then refused to comply further. Moira O'Keefe's name had come up when they'd interviewed Antony the day before and was mentioned by Michelle Mallon during questions that he'd put to her at the Hospital. But when he'd interviewed her himself earlier that morning, the girl having not gone to school in order to do the interview, he was certain she was a mere innocent. The O'Keefe family weren't like the Scanlon's. They were good people who abided by the law, never being in trouble with the RUC throughout generations. The poor girl held genuine affection for Danny, being devasted by his arrest, shown through her tears during the interview. A good girl caught up with a bad boy.


Moving on from Danny, Mrs Scanlon was then sent in to face her other son. Brian was equally ineffective at garnering details from about their plans, but he was going about it very differently to his older brother. Instead of staying silent, Brian tried to lie his way out of custody, a foolish plan made by the least intelligent of the Scanlon boys. He falsified answers to every question instead of being silent like Danny, thinking in his mind that they would be convinced and release him. The night of James's attack, he'd said he was at home watching the television with Antony, but his brother's story contradicted it. Mrs Scanlon's story matched the one her eldest gave, which left her youngest in deep water, with no alibi for the time of the attack. Danny not talking didn't help him either. He was getting more and more flustered by the time the Constable who'd been on the case since day one, ceased the interview to allow Mrs Scanlon in. She was still shaking from her time in with Danny, looking down at her Brian in the hope that he would come clean to her instead.

"Ma…". He addressed her as she was brought in.

Sitting down opposite him, in the same manner in which she had with Danny, Mrs Scanlon found Brian to be far more affected by her grief.

"Brian… why…". She asked him the same question as she had done with his brother.

"We have to ma… it's the only way…".

Unlike Danny, there was raw emotion in his voice. He didn't want to see his mother crying, he never wanted to see her crying, yet he'd made her do so. If only she could see that the Brits had to be eliminated, driven away from a land that wasn't theirs.

"Killin' a young man… that's the only way?"

"I… I… d…".

"What love… what…". She pressed on through the sobs.

He was struggling to keep it together himself as his mother tried to force the truth from him. She only had his best interests at heart, or at least what she perceived them to be, he knew that. He couldn't tell her though. If he opened up, then he'd betray Danny and he couldn't bring himself to send his brother down with him. There was fear too. Telling the truth would mean telling the whole truth, and their mentor was a well-connected man. He'd forever be looking over his shoulder, whether it be in prison or out on the street. Not that he was bothered about betraying…

"Please Brian…". His mother stopped his thoughts.

"I can't ma… alright. You can't ever know why… and I'm not tellin' anyone". He tried to sound defiant, but the effort was tame.

"But that poor fella's innocent!" She argued.

"I know that!" He shouted back at her. "I know he's done nothin'… it's not me who decided to get him, yer askin' the wrong person…".

Realising he'd said too much, Brian looked away from his mother, in the hope she would lose patience and walk out. Undeterred by his squirming, Mrs Scanlon resolutely stayed sat there, studying her youngest son in an attempt to reach out. He was a fighter, the amount of phone calls she'd received from school over the years proved that, but this was a different fight to a playground dust up. Brian Scanlon was fighting his own emotions, a battle he'd never really fought before… one which he was acutely aware of losing. Their eyes locked again over the table a few seconds later, with the tears still falling down Mrs Scanlon's face.

"Don't cry ma… I hate it when ye cry".

"Is it any wonder?!" She yelled back at him. "Do ye know what yer doin' to me… you and Danny… I've given you boys everything I could, and this is how ye repay me! Yer father would be disappointed!".

At his mother's mention of the deceased Joseph Scanlon, Brian slammed his fist onto the desk. All he ever wanted to do was make his father proud. Hearing his mother's belief that he wouldn't have approved of their course of action, not only angered him, but ripped right through him to the core. She was pushing the right buttons in the way that only a mother could.

Brian Scanlon was reaching breaking point.

From behind the one-way mirror, the Detective Constable realised it too. The question was how long it would take for him to crack…


The grapevine was a handy tool.

A way for news to travel without being truly questioned.

In a city like Derry, where gossip was a currency of greater value than the money in a person's pocket, the grapevine was an essential way of life.

It couldn't kill anyone.

But it could assist in doing so.

And for one person in particular, it would.

Hearing through the grapevine that James Maguire was receiving around the clock protection from the cops prevented them from trying for the second night running at the Hospital. Their run to the correct corridor was spot perfect the night before, and there was no guarantee it would be a second time. Factoring in that the cops would be on high alert for anyone acting suspiciously in the Hospital, it would have been stupid to repeat the trick. So, a different plan was required.

The grapevine also suggested that the wee English fella would be released from Hospital at the end of that week, being sent back out into Derry to get on with his life. Except that didn't sit well with them. James couldn't be allowed to have any form of life, whether it be in Derry or Damascus… his story had to end here. The cops would no doubt charge Danny and Brian for conspiring to kill the Englishman and they'd relax their guard on him. That would be their time to strike, once he was back out into the community, without the shield of cops or the possibility of witnesses. It did require the Scanlon's to keep their mouths shut, but if they truly cared for the cause like they said they did, they would know it would be foolish to speak up.

There was a significant problem to contend with, however. Their mentor. They'd agreed to meet with their mentor on Wednesday night, ahead of the planned bombing of the barracks on Good Friday. Little did the mentor know, he'd be walking straight into a trap. The Scanlon's were keen to blow up the barracks and remove the soldiers from existence, but at no stage did they truly care. They would have done the job with them anyway, had things gone to plan, though their plans for the getaway were far different. When they'd got to a location where they could lie low, they'd have killed both the Scanlon's and the mentor when the time was right. They were all just means to an end after all, the end being that of James Maguire's life. Now that the boys were out of the picture, it left only the mentor who would have any suspicion that it was them. He may well have been a well-connected man, but he knew far too much when it came to the Englishman. He would have to die on Wednesday night because of it.

James being released from Hospital also opened the door for a more creative approach to his demise. Within the confines of a Hospital room there were only so many ways that they could end his life, and Erin's if required, but out in the open… the list was endless.

The plan to shoot him was always the obvious one… yet it was the one done so often to make a statement. It always did so… but they wanted this one to be special, to show the world just how much Ireland thought of the English.

Getting him off the street would be easy enough. His leg might have been broken according to the press, but one day he would walk again and overconfidently he'd no doubt do so alone. They could watch and wait, a proven tactic when it came to getting to James, before dragging him off the street to somewhere away from prying eyes. There was an abandoned set of garages that they knew well, where they'd often meet the boys or some of their other friends. They could keep him in there, tie him up, tape his mouth… and simply leave him to die. Not many people frequented the old garages, and by the time anyone would think to search for him there, he'd be a rotting corpse.

But then they wouldn't get to see it…

A repeat of the dark alley was an option too. Only this time the glass bottle would be replaced by a knife or a meat cleaver, in order to hack him to death. The streets would taste the blood of James Maguire again, the inferior blood of the bastard that dared to roam them. They might have to wait a bit longer in order to do it though, as the perfect night was far from easy to create, yet they could remember the feeling from the last time. It felt good.

But would he be foolish enough to walk down a dark alley alone again? Probably not…

Erin Quinn also offered herself up as a target. The grapevine offered the further news that she almost never left his side, apart from going to school, placing her in their path too. They didn't mind though. Erin was a traitor to Ireland, according to their mentor it was something that ran in the family… so she would have to die a traitor's death too. An Irish girl like her wasn't meant to give her love to an Englishman. It was criminal and she would have to face their judgement in the absence of a court.

They could kill her in front of James to really finish him. He would be broken up seeing his beloved die in front of his eyes, dying the very traitor's death that she deserved. There were so many ways in which they could kill her too. Even luring the two of them off the street to the very same set of garages was a distinct possibility. It wouldn't be like getting Michelle Mallon up there, that would be difficult, and she would present a far clearer physical danger than either of the lovers. Shooting Erin Quinn at point blank range would end up messy, but if James was tied up and forced to watch, it would be downright effective. They could then take their time with the wee English fella. Cut him slowly… watch him bleed out over time. It was amazing what you could learn about history from just a few words in a textbook. It would be self-taught lingchi that would ensure James's death as he begged for mercy…

There couldn't be mercy for him.

He was a sin, all the English were, but him more so than the rest of them.

They were baying for his blood.

They knew the truth.

The truth…

The truth…

THE TRUTH…


The evening of the 2nd April 1996 was a calm one.

In James's Hospital room on the top floor of the Altnagelvin, he was sat cuddling his Erin, like he had been for hours. They were joined by Gerry that evening, chatting away with his daughter and her boyfriend, laughing and joking about one thing or another. It was bizarre to be doing so, when James was having to be guarded every hour of the day, not that they gave it too much thought.

Erin came away from his side to go to the loo, leaving James a chance to ask Gerry a question that he'd been meaning to for a couple of days.

"How much did we win in the end?"

Referring to the bet he'd asked Gerry to make on Bogside Warrior, in advance of knowing that Orla would ride the horse, they'd not managed to find the time to discuss it in the days since. Choosing not to vocalise the amount, he instead handed over the winning betting slip, complete with the final amount. A jaw dropping amount.

"I thought it was a lot but…".

James could hardly believe his eyes at that amount. He'd never dreamt of such money, let alone having it for himself, yet all of it was his. The bet was his money, the money he was saving for something else, but wisely chose to place on Bogside Warrior that Saturday morning. Considering the hard times he'd seen and experienced financially, Kathy wasn't always flowing with money, the original amount for the bet itself was huge. The winnings were something else.

"It's in yer bank don't worry". Gerry laughed. "I'm not goin' to be jettin' off to the Bahamas with Mary".

"Joe wouldn't let you". James joked in return.

"Aye… even if we did, he'd track us down…".

James amused himself with the thought of Joe tracking Gerry down in the Bahamas, sneaking up on him as he enjoyed a drink at a beachside hut in the sun. Joe would be in his element doing that and James would love to see it in some ways. Albeit, he needed the money Gerry would have to use to do so, for a different matter entirely.

"I need another favour Gerry".

Tick tock


Across the city, back at home, Joe was having to contend with Michelle Mallon staying the night at the house. Clare was too, but despite her cack attacks, he could handle having her at the house for an extended period of time. However, he'd quickly found it to be a misjudgement when it came to his grumbles with Michelle, especially upon learning of her decision to become Orla's agent. He wasn't exactly approving when it was first mentioned, but quickly changed his tune when he realised how seriously Michelle was taking it. After school, she'd gone into the city centre and purchased a diary as well as plenty of other equipment. Spending some time on the phone with Frankie, she made a list of all of the race meetings in Ireland and Britain for the following two weeks in the notes section of the diary. On the diary pages themselves, Michelle confirmed with Frankie, Orla stood next to her, all of the rides she'd been booked for during the Easter holidays. Orla soon went away again, leaving Michelle to continue on the phone for another half hour.

Walking back into the living room, she expected to be verbally lacerated by Joe for spending so long on the phone and was subsequently surprised when he said absolutely nothing.

"All done Michelle?" Clare asked.

"Aye". She replied. "Gather round girls".

Michelle lay down on her front on the floor, putting the diary out in front of the three of them, Clare and Orla taking a side each, copying her prone position.

"You've got nothin' at the weekend because of what ye ma said".

Sarah insisted that Orla stay at home with the family until Monday, with multiple church services to attend as well as James's imminent release from Hospital. Orla was contented to do so, with Frankie's only runner that weekend being ridden by Paul instead.

"Yer doin' Fairyhouse from Monday through to Wednesday…".

"Three days?" Orla gave her an inquisitive look.

"Aye, Paul came in when I was still onto Frankie and said he'd taken some more calls for trainers wanting ye to ride for them. I've got ye a place to stay for a couple of nights…".

Orla's face lit up at the news. As expected, Orla's availability was wanting to be capitalised on when she was off school and every trainer in Ireland appeared to be aware of it.

"So, ye've got five rides on Monday, three on Tuesday and then another two so far on Wednesday. I've given Paul me number and the number for school, so if ye get anymore in the next couple of days, I'll see about fitting 'em in".

"What about weights Michelle?" Orla quizzed.

"Most of them are low weights Paul was sayin'. From the bottom or outside of the handicap… whatever the fuck that means. So don't be eatin' too many Wham bars ye hear?"

The girls sat talking about the Easter week ahead for Orla for another hour, Mary joining Joe in watching the excitement they generated from planning. They were having the time of their lives in that living room, mapping out the path for Orla in her chosen career.

The future seemed so bright.

But every bright light was born out of darkness…


Nine o'clock on Wednesday morning brought with it the breakthrough that the Detective Inspector was looking for. Sending Mrs Scanlon in at first didn't appear to have worked, but after sleeping on it, it was suddenly paying dividends.

"Mr Scanlon". He said as he sat down opposite him. "Ye want to speak to me".

"Aye".

"Ye have something to confess?"

"Yes. I want to tell ye everythin' that has happened and everythin' that was going to".

The breaking point had been reached.