Chapter 28: The Death of James Maguire 3rd April 1996
The mood on the school bus that morning was good. With their French homework completed, following the assistance of Jenny and Aisling's notes, the gang were able to relax for the morning, which started with a double History lesson with Mr Flanagan. Even though they were doing a practice paper in the first part of the double lesson, they'd all knuckled down in his lessons and were confident in passing. The conversation was mostly led by Michelle, who was still pouring all of her own focus into organising Orla's Easter week.
When the phone rang at the Mallon house at two o'clock in the morning, Kathy shot out of bed, immediately fearing something had happened to James. Deirdre joined her too, as well as Michelle, and it was the latter who the phone call turned out to be for, rather than anything to do with the wee English fella. The life of a jockey's agent didn't stop when it was time for bed. The phone call gained another two rides for Orla that week, ensuring that after her three days at Fairyhouse, she would have Thursday at Ballinrobe. She wouldn't need to stay overnight there though, as she would be back to the amateur ranks to ride for Frankie on the Friday, at a course just outside Antrim. Joe would be her faithful driver and supporter as normal throughout the week, and once she turned seventeen, which was only a few weeks away, Orla would be learning to drive too. It would be essential if she was going to be a professional.
Walking into school, they were chuckling away to themselves.
"I bet yer ma was fumin'". Erin snorted.
"Ach Christ, like ye wouldn't believe!" Michelle complained. "Aunt Kathy was no better either… moanin' that it was ruinin' her beauty sleep".
"She is a beautiful woman". Clare pointed out.
As Clare was walking along without thinking about her comment, the other three stopped dead in their tracks, though Orla only did so to follow along. She had no idea why they'd stopped.
"What?" Clare turned back to look at them when she realised that they were no longer with her.
"Ye can't ride me Aunt, Clare!" Michelle hissed at her.
"What! I don't want to ride yer aunt!" She hissed back, blushing.
"Ye did just say she was beautiful Clare". Erin added in Michelle's defence.
"It's all in the eyebrows ye know…". Orla mused her own thoughts. "… mammy says those eyebrows could kill if they wanted to".
However, Clare did want to scream and tell them how ridiculous they all sounded. Kathy Maguire was a beautiful woman… she was just stating the obvious. It didn't mean that she wanted to ride her or held any form of attraction to her beyond the bounds of friendship. She was James's ma after all… that would be disgusting!
"For heaven's sake, it was just a compliment".
"Ye well… I'm watchin' ye now".
Michelle gestured with her hands at the same time, with Clare huffing and turning to walk away again, with the three of them catching up to her a second later. They were heading towards their usual spot that morning, with fifteen minutes until assembly was due to start. However, as they rounded the corridor that led to their table, the tannoy blared out.
"Michelle Mallon to reception please, to reception please… Michelle Mallon".
Erin frowned at the announcement, but following the events of the night before, the other three knew exactly what it was about. Orla's agent was required to answer the school phone.
"Right I best be off then, duty calls. I'll let ye know what it's about when I'm back Orla".
"Aye thanks Michelle…". She replied, giving her a pat on the shoulder before she left in the direction of reception. "… I'm goin' to the loo".
"Come on Clare, let's go and sit down". Erin said to her fellow blonde.
Splitting up, Orla headed on around the corner from their seats in order to reach the toilets further down the next corridor.
She did not see the pair of eyes that followed her.
Orla was in front of the mirror after going to the loo, checking a little cut she'd sustained the prior morning after taking a fall at the stables. She was aboard the horse she'd be riding for Frankie in the holidays, bowling along nicely until they reached the last jump of the session. The horse seemed to be spooked by something and hit it hard, sending Orla crashing to the turf face first. Paul dismounted his mount immediately to go over to her, finding her mostly intact bar the slight cut under her right eye. It was so insignificant that even her hawk-eyed Aunt Mary hadn't spotted it when she returned home the night before and it didn't really hurt either. Satisfied that it was healing, Orla went to pick up her bag again when the door opened, and another student entered the toilets.
Moira O'Keefe.
Having not been in school that Tuesday, they discussed Moira on the bus as well that morning. They didn't think they'd see her for the rest of the week with Danny being arrested, predicting the devastation it would cause her. Not that they were bothered about it, though they were smart enough girls not to pick a fight with Moira upon her return. They didn't need to say anything to her, and she didn't need to say anything to them.
"Ach, alright there Moira". Orla asked pleasantly enough, immediately shattering that logic.
"Morning Orla". The response was a grumbled one.
"Ye alright? I heard about what happened with Danny…".
Orla's voice trailed off as she watched Moira's expressions flicker between anger and sadness. She could understand why she would hold those emotions, not expecting for one minute that her fella would be so cruel when it came to James.
"Aye… it's been tough". The hint of a smile hugged at the corner of Moira's lips.
"I know what it's like after what we've been through with James. At least it's all nearly over…".
Orla didn't understand the next expression that Moira produced, so it left her frowning. The girl, much smaller than her, was almost looking up and grinning at her. With such sadness over Danny, and the horrible weeks the girls had been through with James, she didn't know where the happiness could have come from. Then again, Moira didn't like James that much. She was always laying into the girls about him, Erin taking the brunt of the comments, but grinning at what she'd said still felt very out of place.
"Ye think it's over?"
Moira was almost chuckling, which was really confusing Orla. It was just the two of them in the bathroom at that point in time, preventing Orla from asking anyone else about why Moira was saying what she was saying and acting how she was acting. She wasn't as skilled at reading people as her friends were; they would all know what was going on whereas she didn't.
"I… I don't… understand…".
Grinning again, Moira seemed to be taking pleasure in Orla's confusion. She still couldn't work out why the little O'Keefe girl was acting as if it were the best thing in the world. She might have hated James… but surely, she didn't wish any harm up on him, as that would be nasty like the Scanlon boys were.
"Ye think everythin' will be fine… nothin' else will happen to James?"
"Aye… yer Danny and his wee brother will be in the jail soon ye know… they can't hurt him from in there".
"Who said that it was only them?"
Orla searched her mind, until it snagged on the thought that only Clare had ever truly given any airing to in the past few weeks… surely Moira wasn't involved…
"Confused ye have I?" Moira mocked, though Orla was that befuddled, she didn't register it.
"Aye ye have". She answered sincerely.
"The Scanlon boys aren't smart enough to create a plan to kill James and get away with it. Christ, Brian can barely tie his own shoelaces!"
"I…".
"Oh Orla… the Grand National winning retard".
That description had been levelled at her in the past, and it always made Sarah and Mary very angry when she told them that someone had referred to her with it. She knew it was designed to hurt her, attack the way that she approached life, outside of the normal bounds of the academic method. Moira might have held the edge in the classroom, but there was no way she could steer a two hundred to one shot round to win a Grand National.
"But yer in love with Danny?" Orla questioned, trying to forget the prior barb.
"Really?" Moira produced an extended snort. "Danny and Brian have both been useful, but love… hah! Ye really have no idea about me do ye?"
Now Orla believed she understood. Suddenly the lack of anyone else in the bathroom unsettled her, especially as Moira stood between her and the exit. There was no way out for Orla.
"Leave James alone!" She challenged.
"Finally caught up have we… that's grand… that's grand". Moira paused to cackle, her mind moving onto what she wanted to do to the wee English fella. "… but ye can't stop me Orla".
"I won't let ye hurt him!"
Orla bravely took a step forward to close the gap to Moira, who stood her ground, a dastardly bout of borderline psychotic giggling taking over.
"James is going to die. He HAS to die!"
"No he does not!" She argued back, shuffling nervously.
The nervous shuffling was something that Moira noted, and was quick to move away from mentioning James and re-focus on Orla.
"Don't worry yerself Orla…". Moira began to almost dance around her, frightening the usually free-spirited young McCool. "… I wouldn't hurt such a hero to Ireland. We're on the same side… it wouldn't do me any good to even lay a scratch on ye…".
Swallowing hard, she never took her eyes off of Moira, who strode around the bathroom with the widest smile that she'd ever seen across her face. Orla didn't want this to be about her though; this was about James and she wasn't going to stand there and let Moira get away with it, no matter what the cost may be.
"I'll tell Sister Michael!" She shouted at her.
"And why would she believe you?" Moira's vicious, teasing tone, put further fright into her. "Ye might have the world's press on ye every five fuckin' minutes, but yer still Orla McCool who talks shite half the time. As if anyone would believe anything ye would say about anything. Everyone knows yer fucking stupid'… livin' in the clouds. Ye couldn't prove it anyway…".
Moira was now stood before her, with only a short gap between the two of them. Orla's bag lay to her right side, still perched between the two sinks where she'd left it. She couldn't let Moira get away with it, and if the threat of Sister Michael wasn't enough to stop her, then there had to be something else. In a mad rush, a split-second decision that held the power to destroy everything she'd achieved, Orla resorted to the one thing she'd been warned never to do. Reaching into her bag, she retrieved an object of great importance to her.
One of the knives from her collection.
Her hands were shaking as she pulled it up towards Moira, who seemed to freeze on the spot. Moira took a step back, with Orla feeling a deep sickness in the depths of her stomach at the action she was performing. She knew it was wrong, that it was against the law to be threatening Moira in such a manner… but Moira wanted to kill James and Orla couldn't let that happen either. The young O'Keefe was like a rabbit in the headlights in front of her, the polar opposite to how she'd been just moments before. Fearing Orla's wrath.
But there was a reason why Moira O'Keefe was top of the Drama class.
The false mask of fear she'd presented was torn asunder, redundant after having hidden her braggadocio for a mere minute. It rose back to the surface, manifesting itself in the form of a cacophonous bout of laughter, ripping out from the bottom of her lungs.
"Just how I wanted it". She smirked.
Orla's ears twigged on the sound of an approaching Sister Michael. She didn't need to hear her voice from outside, as the distinctive footsteps were thundering towards the door. She quickly threw the knife back into the bag, only just having time before Sister Michael appeared in the girl's toilets, with Moira's two loyal friends stood with her. They didn't know the details when it came to the plan to kill James, as they were so loyal, they would do anything Moira asked them to. Anything at all.
"What's going on!?" The Sister questioned. "The girls are telling me you've threatened Miss O'Keefe, Miss McCool".
"She's got a knife sister!" Moira screeched.
Sister Michael visibly paled as the accusation was made, her glare boring into the terrified Orla, who looked like she was going to burst into tears.
"That is a serious accusation Miss O'Keefe. I hope it is not one made lightly!"
"Check her bag Sister, there's a knife in there!"
Moira's performance worked as intended, Sister Michael transitioning into a set of military like instructions in order to handle the situation that she was presented with.
"You two girls". She pointed at Moira's friends. "Find Miss Mooney now and bring her here".
"Yes Sister Michael". They answered in unison.
She pointed to the corner and flicked her head in Moira's direction to let her know to stand there, putting distance between her and Orla. Moira smirked as she passed the head mistress.
"Ye best give me yer bag Miss McCool".
Orla hesitated, eyes darting over to the still smirking Moira, before focusing again on the insistent Sister Michael, who held an arm out ready to accept the bag. Reluctantly, Orla picked it up and placed it into her hands.
Waiting for Miss Mooney to arrive, Moira kept her exterior emotions in check, but inside she was revelling from the scenario she'd manufactured.
She couldn't take Orla McCool's life.
But she could ruin it.
Erin was beginning to get worried for her cousin. Orla had been gone for nearly ten minutes, and with assembly only a couple of minutes away, she was considering going to find her. Clare too was aware of the time that had past, fretting herself at the thought that Orla could have gotten into trouble without them there to steer her away from it. They eyed Miss Mooney with suspicion as she stormed past them with Moira's two close friends snapping away at heels, being smirked at by the pair of them. Please not trouble with them…
Fate's decision was to bring the answer about Orla to them though, as Aisling appeared through a crowd of students at pace. She looked Clare-esque, cacking herself as thoroughly as the diminutive blonde, which only heightened their concerns.
"What's the craic Aisling?" Erin engaged her straight away as she drew up to the table.
"It's Orla…". She blurted out, breathing heavily.
"WHAT!?" Erin instinctively flared up with an underlying fear for her cousin.
"I…".
"Aisling what is it?" The equally nervous Clare pried.
"She… she threatened Moira O'Keefe with a knife in the toilets… Sister Michael's in there…".
It was the worst possible news for Erin. She was supposed to look after Orla to prevent situations like this occurring; one lapse in judgement later and it was too late. Her mother would crucify her when she found out Orla was left alone to go off to the loo without anyone looking out for her. She could feel her stomach churn as her mind played out the likely ending of what would happen, regardless of whether she'd threatened Moira or not. Erin would have given anything to have James by her side at that moment. He would always know what to do, how to guide her to see them all safely out on the other side of the trouble. He couldn't be there though, so she would have to face it with Clare and Michelle, whenever the latter was finished on the phone.
"Oh my god…". Clare's jaw dropped open.
"SHIT!" Erin began to shout. "Shit! Shit! Shit!"
"What are we gunna do!?" Clare shrieked.
Appearing in the distance, Michelle's face was emblazoned with a wide smile, unmoved as she weaved her way through the now busy corridors. But as she reached her friends, the smile disappeared when the tears in Erin's eyes were registered by hers.
"What's up?" She asked Erin.
"It's Orla…".
"What!?"
Erin and Clare looked at Aisling, who quickly revealed what she'd heard to Michelle, who was staring almost into her soul. Michelle couldn't believe it. Orla could have thrown everything away. If she truly threatened Moira with a knife, and Sister Michael caught her in the act, she could be looking at serious trouble with the cops. Her reputation would be ruined, leaving Michelle out of a job too. Disaster… a complete and utter disaster.
"For fuck's sake…".
"She might go to prison!" Clare's cack attack was reaching maximum velocity.
"Fuckin' Moira… bitch is probably lyin'!"
"What if she's not Michelle?" The tearful Erin retorted. "My ma's goin' to kill me".
There was a commotion from around the corner, with the girls looking up to see Sister Michael approaching, a fearful Orla trailing in her wake. Miss Mooney was a little behind them, Moira and her two friends accompanying her.
"Orla!" Michelle tried to address her, standing in front of her and Sister Michael.
"Move out of the way Miss Mallon". Sister Michael commanded.
Michelle stayed planted, a foolish attempt at defying the head mistress, who was having none of it.
"Now!"
Grumbling, Michelle moved to the side to allow them to pass. The pausing in their walk allowed Erin to search her cousin with her eyes, her own fears growing further when she saw the terrified look on Orla's face. It told her of guilt too. She'd always told Orla to leave her knives at home, believing that the instruction had almost always been followed too, as she never saw them at school.
It hadn't been… and Moira capitalised on it.
Sister Michael's morning was not the one she was hoping for. Having expected to have a morning going through the school finances and signing off some invoices, she was instead dealing with one student apparently threatening another with a weapon. A student who also happened to be the most talked about girl in the world over the last few days, who's career was very much in the head mistress's hands. She was yet to venture into Orla McCool's bag, deciding to hear Moira's side of the story first to delay the inevitable. There could be no bias towards the jockey, even if she held her in great admiration, and the Sister knew the bag would have to be searched.
"Sit down Miss O'Keefe". She instructed Moira as they walked into her office.
One of the other teachers took statements from Moira's friends whilst Miss Mooney went to her office with the distraught Orla. As soon as they were away from the rest of the students, Orla began to cry her eyes out. Moira had stitched her up perfectly. Allowed a chance to finish the job, Moira was ready to put the nails in Orla's coffin with her own statement. No one would take Orla's word over hers with the young McCool known for her bizarre outbursts… it would be ever so easy.
Sister Michael retrieved a pen and a notepad, ready to take down the statement of events from Moira's side to compare with Orla's later.
"From the start, tell me what happened".
Moira took a deep breath. This was where the fun began.
"I… I…". She feigned upset, Sister Michael pointing to the tissues at the side of her desk in response. "… I was going into the toilets with my girls, Sister. J-just minding me own business, so I was…".
Good… so good… it felt so good. She was going to bury Orla McCool forever.
"… I said hello to Orla…".
"Where we you stood?" The Sister interjected.
"Me and the girls were stood about where ye found me earlier. Orla was stood in front of the sinks".
Sister Michael continued to make her notes, Moira ceasing her despicable fabrication in order for the head mistress to get every detail.
"Carry on".
"She… well I reckon this stardom has got to her head ye know… because she said 'I don't talk to the likes of you's' anymore'… I asked why she was bein' rude and… can I use the word she used?"
"For this delicate matter, you may". Sister Michael nodded.
"She told me to fuck off".
Having reared back in surprise, Sister Michael found Moira confirming her words with a nod, a deliberately overdramatic one on the part of Miss O'Keefe. Settling back down after a brief interlude, she indicated for Moira to continue.
"Then she told us to move out the way before we got hurt. I… I told her not to talk to us like that and the girls agreed with me… but they were scared ye know and said they were comin' to get ye… and then…".
The pause was for the waterworks to be turned on, crocodile tears escaping from the corners of Moira's eyes, to be dabbed at with another tissue taken from the box on the desk. The Sister was sympathetic, putting her hand over Moira's to comfort her.
"What happened next Moira?"
"… then sh-… then she….". The waterworks were overflowing. "… she reached into her bag when the girls left… and… pulled out a knife… and held it to my throat…".
With her voice cracking open and her body shivering, Moira was acting out her own script to complete perfection. When everything was over, James dead and the Brits driven away, she would become an actress… Ireland's leading actress, a career with success written all over it.
"I need you to be telling me the honest truth here Moira…". The Sister took a serious tone with her. "… Orla McCool held a knife to yer throat… that is the honest truth?"
"It is Sister". Moira confirmed stoutly.
There were a couple of minutes of silence as Sister Michael completed the notes from Moira's side of the story. She wouldn't know it yet, but the story would be a very different one to the tale that would be told by Orla, but Moira wasn't worried about that. Her story would be the one that was believed.
Escorting her to a nearby classroom, to be supervised by Miss Mooney after she'd brought Orla to the Sister, she could sit back and relax.
Orla McCool would soon be out of the way.
Their group shattered.
The death of James Maguire began to look even more simplistic….
The most inconvenient assembly of all time took place for the girls that morning.
Jenny wasn't singing for once, which gave their eardrums a rest, but their heads were all spinning. They needed to get to see Orla, find out exactly what took place in the loo's that morning, wanting to know which planet she was on to start threatening Moira with a knife... or to find out how much shite O'Keefe was talking.
"Come on for fuck's sake…". Michelle moaned under her breath.
Mrs O'Meara, their Geography teacher, was the most senior member of staff not dealing with the incident, so in the assembly, it was up to her to read out the notices that morning. Unlike Sister Michael though, she enjoyed a bit of a ramble, every minute of her speaking feeling like a lifetime.
At quarter past nine it was finally over, with the three of them heading straight for Sister Michael's office, leaving Jenny and Aisling to pass on their excuses to Mr Flanagan. The two of them were apprehensive to do so, but Michelle could be very persuasive when she wanted to be, the two finding the confidence to do so as they sprinted off in the direction of the History classroom. Michelle, Erin and Clare weren't saying anything to each other, not needing to, the three of them sharing the same thoughts almost telepathically.
The most worried of all was Michelle, viewing the incident as a catastrophe for the group, and rather selfishly, her own ambitions. Despite only having spent one evening on the job, she was enjoying every minute of acting as an agent for Orla. She still needed an official agent's license to do so, but whilst Orla was an amateur, she could get away without one. Everyone who'd rang so far had treated her as if she did hold an agent's license, a miracle in her mind given the agency game was mostly occupied by men. The latest phone call found her mixing in a circle she'd never have thought of mixing in, in a million years. It was from Buckingham Palace; the Queen wanted to meet Orla. As she was booking an appointment on the jockey's behalf with Her Majesty, Orla decided to book one with the RUC.
"Girls!"
Mr Flanagan's voice boomed down the corridor as they neared Sister Michael's office, the three of them stopping dead in their tracks at being caught.
"Where do ye think yer going?"
He was no fool. He'd already heard all about the incident, having been briefed quickly by Miss Mooney in the minute or so before the start of the assembly. Throughout it, he eyed the gang from afar, anticipating that they wouldn't be hanging around after they were dismissed from the main hall. They couldn't get involved at this point, it was a matter that could only be dealt with by speaking with the people present and they were not those people. Orla would have to fend for herself.
"Sister Michael's office". Erin answered.
"She's not acceptin' visitor's girls… ye'll have to come back to class with me".
"Oh I don't fuckin' think so!"
Michelle turned on her heels to go, the girls following suit. However, they got no further than a couple of feet away, when a sight they dreaded appeared on the horizon. Sister Michael's door was opened, and loud sniffles could be heard. Three people marched out into the corridor a second later, their backs to the girls, but the unmistakable figure of Orla was one of them. The other two were wearing RUC uniforms. It was only after another second, that they realised Orla was being led away in handcuffs, towards the main exit of the school.
"No…". Erin gasped, overcome with panic.
"FUCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!" Michelle shouted, punching the wall in anger.
Clare didn't say anything, allowing the tears that flowed down her face to describe her feelings at that moment in time. Orla's career was over, the press would soon get hold of the story and then Michelle really wouldn't want to be her agent.
"Girls…". Mr Flanagan tried to be reassuring, but even his dulcet tones did nothing to ease their pain. ".. we'll discuss this in the classroom… but ye need to come with me now".
With their backs against the wall, they could only accept his terms and concede defeat upon seeing Orla led away.
They'd stopped just outside the classroom that Miss Mooney watched over Moira in. She didn't dare show it the deputy head, but inside, having heard every word of what was being said outside and interpreting it to mean Orla was done for, she felt on top of the world.
Moira O'Keefe had won the battle… it was time for her to win the war.
After another twenty minutes or so in with Miss Mooney, Sister Michael returned to the classroom to retrieve Moira. She was expecting to be sent back to class after assuming Orla was led away, finding it a surprise when they instead returned to the headmistress's office. Moira took her seat in front of the desk, which had changed in appearance to when she'd last seen it. There were two glasses on it, as well as a jug full of orange juice and a plate of biscuits. Chuckling to herself beneath her breath, it was not only easy putting Orla McCool out of the picture, but she was also getting rewarded for it too. God was on her side.
"Moira…". The Sister started, staying stood up just behind her desk, her hands on the back of the chair. "… I've had ye back in as I thought it was best to run through what has happened since we last spoke".
"Oh right… of course".
Sister Michael took her seat a second later, reaching for one of the glasses and pouring herself some of the orange juice. Gesturing to Moira if she would like some too, the student dipped her head in reply, with the glass being handed over a few seconds later. It was usually their group that were given friendly treatment by the head mistress, though she doubted they'd ever been given OJ and biscuits. Both Moira and Sister Michael reached for a biscuit from the plate, quickly selecting their preferred choices. Sister Michael finished hers without hesitation, in order to get on with what she had to say.
"There is evidence to suggest Orla was aggressive to you, so I've dealt with the matter. She won't be botherin' ye anymore". She explained.
"Thank ye Sister…". Moira said with a mouthful of biscuit. "… I was so scared I was…".
"No student should ever feel unsafe at Our Lady Immaculate, I'm sorry that ye were put into a position where ye were".
"It isn't yer fault Sister".
"But I have a duty of care to you as a student Moira, as much as all of you children frustrate me". Sister Michael sighed dramatically. "Whilst we're on that subject, I've been meanin' to see if ye were okay after yesterday. I know it must have been difficult to hear of what Mr Scanlon was planning…".
"I'm fine!" Moira quickly replied to try to end that line of conversation.
"Are ye sure Moira?"
"Yes… I mean… I didn't know anythin' about it or why they wanted to hurt him". She lied in return… what a glorious lie!
"The papers say they attacked him in the first place…". Sister Michael continued to push on the matter.
"Like I said… I don't know anything". Moira huffed slightly, hoping the head mistress would take the hint and move on. "It's not like I've asked him about why they hit James on the head and stabbed him… why would I?"
There was a brief cessation of conversation after she asked the question, watching as Sister Michael shifted in her seat. It was frustrating for Moira that the Sister brought Danny up. She didn't care about him anymore, with his destiny to rot away in jail, unable to give her up because he loved her too much. And he'd never find out it wasn't reciprocated.
"My apologies Miss O'Keefe, I went a little too far there".
"No bother Sister". She smiled. "Can I go back to class now?"
"I just have one more question Moira".
Forcing another smile out, though internally she was cursing the head mistress for keeping her even longer, Moira decided to have another biscuit. If she was being made to stay, then she would at least ensure she remained well-fed for the rest of the time she occupied Sister Michael's office.
"What are ye goin' to do after ye leave school?"
It was a strange question, unrelated to anything that happened that morning, but it didn't do any harm to her plans to tell Sister Michael about wanting to become an actress.
"I… I want to go to actin' school".
"Acting?" The head mistress chuckled. "I had a friend at school who wanted to become an actress… she was very good… dedicated to it and besotted with the idea".
"Who is she? Is she famous?"
"No". The Sister solemnly confirmed. "Ye see, she was also besotted with a young man at the same time, but he was a bad egg, so he was. A real troublesome fella…".
Moira's confusion rose as to why Sister Michael was telling her the story. Sure, Moira might have been with Danny, and he was going to be seen as trouble, but he wasn't actually that bad. It was her who held the evil in their circle.
"What happened?" The now curious Moira asked.
"The fella was arrested for attempted murder. He'd left her pregnant as well, so she went away to have her baby in shame… I've never heard from her again".
Emotion that Moira didn't think Sister Michael possessed, appeared all along the head mistress's face, from the corners of her eyes to the smooth ridge of her bottom lip.
"But ye've not gone down that road have ye Moira…".
A seriously confused Moira scrunched her nose in response, unable to understand where Sister Michael's comment fitted in with her.
"I have something to show ye".
Sister Michael rose from her seat after speaking, using her finger to gesticulate that Moira should follow her. She moved over to the window behind her desk, standing with her hands together behind her back like a General watching over the troops. Tentatively, Moira edged over to the window too, as confused as Orla had been when she'd tricked her in the toilets that morning. It was almost as if… no… no… NO!
Outside in the car park, instead of finding Orla in the back of an RUC vehicle, she was found with two people Moira recognised from the TV. Frank Flanagan and Paul O'Meara. And when she poked her head even further forward, the rest of the girls were out there with Mr Flanagan.
The trap was sprung.
Moira was caught in it… with no way out.
"But…".
Moira tried to string words together, but they wouldn't come out. How…
"It's amazing what a handily placed classroom and a key to the drama costume cupboard can achieve isn't it?"
Sister Michael did not take her eyes off of the girls outside as she spoke, registering Moira's reaction only out of the corner of her left. There was silence for another twenty seconds as the student tried to think what to do, but she was brutally exposed in that room and could only panic. Then, with a face of fury, Sister Michael turned to her.
"Did ye really think yer bluster would work with me Miss O'Keefe!"
She couldn't respond… she was on the ropes… everything was coming apart. It couldn't though… James had to die…. HE HAD TO!
"I…".
"Yer story was such utter stupidity… and I let ye think I'd believed it. But not for one minute was I buying that rubbish!".
Moira started to step backwards, her brain automatically telling her to sit back down, without her conscience having any say on it.
"Ye never asked me why I took so long to come back to ye?" Sister Michael stayed on her feet but moved away from the window.
"I… I guessed ye were phonin' her parents". Moira answered in an odd whimper.
"No. I was going to be contacting yer parents, but it turns out the Royal Ulster Constabulary had beaten me to it. It's over Moira, they're comin to arrest ye".
If Orla would have stabbed her with the knife that morning, it would have been less painful than knowing that the house of cards had collapsed. It must have been Brian who betrayed her… being the thickest, they'd probably tricked him into a confession… into revealing who the real driving force was in the group.
"But she did threaten me!" Moira tried to protest. "The knife was in her bag!"
"Ach the knife…". Sister Michael tilted her head slightly to recognise the good point.
Opening the drawer to her desk, Moira, to her horror, could already guess what was about to be said. She thought she was good at planning, but Sister Michael was giving her a masterclass in the art of how to do it to perfection.
"You mean the one I leant to Orla's Uncle Colm for the Church bingo night…". The head mistress held it aloft for Moira to see, smiling at the girl. "… she was just returnin' it on his behalf… terrible night at the bingo though…".
That was the only deflector that Moira could cling to; with it ripped aside, she had nothing. Absolutely nothing. Unrelenting in her dismissal of her, Sister Michael continued.
"The Monday after James's attack, I stood in that assembly hall and made something very clear… do ye remember what it was Moira?"
"No". Moira, who'd regained some composure, spoke almost dismissively in return.
"I said that if I found any of ye to be withholdin' information from myself or the cops, that you'd never step foot in this school again. I intend to keep that promise".
"I did nothin' to him". She defiantly held onto the lie she'd formed.
"Oh but ye did Moira…". Sister Michael corrected her, totally in control of the situation. "… ye said to me earlier that ye'd never asked Mr Scanlon about hitting James over the head or stabbing him".
Moira's eyes narrowed as the Sister narrated just how badly that the young O'Keefe had been played that morning… how she'd gone and fucked everything up.
"The cops never released the detail about James's head injury. Don't get me wrong, I'm no Detective, but I'm no fool Moira. Only someone who was there could have known that. That's what I'll be tellin' the Detective Inspector anyway".
She froze again, unable to comprehend how foolish the comment had been. In her overconfidence from everything going so well, she'd put her foot in it, and Sister Michael wasn't in need of any wising up when it came to outwitting her.
"You have to pick two things carefully Moira". Sister Michael started to monologue again. "Your battles and your friends… ye failed at both".
"Ye don't understand". Moira sneered.
"I'm not sure if I want to understand what is going on in yer head if I'm honest. Ye failed because you thought I'd just accept what you said as gospel, that Orla acting how she does would make me discredit her story… that I wouldn't care whether it cost her a career. But she has the right friends, whereas you… you don't. When you pick a fight with those girls, yer also picking a fight with me".
"Yer a teacher… ye can't take sides!" Moira shouted.
"Well I have. So, there you have it. Some gentlemen from the RUC will be along in a moment to take ye away".
"Why them!" The student shouted again. "Why do ye stick up for them and that English bastard! He's the enemy! A FUCKING SIN!"
"No… No he's not Moira". Sister Michael shook her head. "England might not be the best neighbour, but you are a bully, and I don't defend yer kind".
Those were the final words said in Sister Michael's office, as multiple officers of the RUC arrived. A quick search of Moira revealed no weapons, and she was read her rights before being taken away to face the justice she so richly deserved.
It was up to the Detective Inspector to find the answer to a question that Sister Michael didn't want to understand from Moira.
Why James Maguire?
Taking another day off work, Gerry was already eating into his holiday allowance for the year, though as it was for James, he wasn't too bothered. In a different job, he could have done half a day, as his favour for the Englishman wouldn't be completed until the afternoon. In Gerry's line of work though, it was difficult to do so, but his boss, who'd been very good to him throughout the weeks of James's hospitalisation, was very understanding. He didn't tell his boss the exact favour James had asked of him, as an added part of the favour was not to tell anyone at all about what he was doing. He appreciated James wanting it to be kept a secret though… it wouldn't be much of a surprise if he told any of the others. Especially Sarah.
Tick Tock
He wasn't the only one present at the house though. Joe was home as always, the two of them already arguing over the washing up, with Joe insisting it wasn't good enough and that Gerry needed to do it again. It didn't help matters when Gerry pointed out that the items that fell short of Joe's standards, were the ones washed up by his father in-law himself. If they were alone in the house, it could have led to blows, but luckily for the rest of the family's sake, Mary was at home to prevent it getting any further than the verbally aggressive stage. Baby Anna was happily playing on the living room floor, and she was joined by the other person at the house that morning.
Kathy.
Mary was hesitant at letting her play with Anna at first, but Gerry waved away her arguments, which proved to be the right decision as Anna was having a great time with her. Mary never imagined Kathy to have any motherly traits about her, not with how she'd appeared to have raised James for years, providing a welcome surprise when Anna's first laughs sounded.
Those laughs ceased a few seconds after Mary picked up the phone.
"Oh… mornin' Inspector".
The Inspector had phoned for her or Joe first, despite not knowing Kathy was there, as he'd seen enough of the structure of their lives to know that Mary or her father were the leaders. Confirming that Kathy was present too, he was confident in giving Mary the details about Moira's arrest and the Scanlon confession that started the process. The rest of them listened in as much as they could, but Mary didn't do too much speaking, leaving the officer to run through everything without commenting unless she had to. They heard the phone go down, with Mary arriving back in the living room a couple of seconds later.
Tick Tock
"They've made another arrest".
"What!?" Gerry replied to his wife in shock.
"Aye. One of the Scanlon boys decided to tell them everythin'. There was a girl involved, one that our girls go to school with".
Joe paled as the thought of his granddaughters having been directly in danger for so long entered his mind. They were sharing the same classrooms as someone who wanted to kill James, who could have easily killed them. It was sickening.
Tick Tock
"Are the girls alright?" Kathy asked from her spot on the floor.
"Aye they're fine". Mary confirmed. "Not too surprised about who it is though…".
"What do ye mean love?" Joe frowned as he asked.
"Well the family might be alright, but they've had a run-in with this girl before".
The two men tried to think back to what Mary could have been talking about. It couldn't be Jenny Joyce or Aisling, as they were aware of the friendship that the girls now held with them. There was the Tina girl from a long time before, who they'd been accused of bullying on the day of Sister Declan's untimely demise in her prime. There was that girl…
"It was that Moira girl". Mary told them before they could enquire themselves.
"From back in January?" Gerry connected the dots.
"Aye that's right".
Kathy looked at them dumbfounded, with Mary proceeding to fill her in with the details of when Moira made some horrendous comments to Erin, prompting James to defend her honour with a far sharper tongue than any of them realised he possessed. A trait no doubt inherited from his mother.
"What was the family again?" Joe scratched his head as he posed the question.
"Ach I remember…". Gerry piped up. "O'Keefe".
"O'Keefe… as in the O'Keefe's?"
"Aye Da… that's them". Mary nodded to Joe. "I feel for Aine and Ronan so I do. Such a nice family they are and now this…".
There were hums of agreement from Joe and Gerry, who both knew the family once Mary mentioned them. Joe vaguely knew Ronan from being out and about, with Gerry knowing Aine through a couple of chats at school events down the years.
Mary glanced to the floor to look at Anna playing, but found a more startling sight when her eyes flicked over to Kathy.
The colour was drained from her face, the usually beautiful features gone, replaced with an almost ghost like figure on the carpet of their living room.
"What is it Kathy?"
Turning around at Mary's question, Joe and Gerry were both taken aback by how ill Kathy suddenly looked.
"Did ye… did ye…". Her tone indicated a colossal panic attack. "Did ye say Ronan O'Keefe?"
"Aye". Mary confirmed with furrowed brows.
There was a pause as Kathy put her hands over her face, an action that none of them could understand from the mention of Ronan O'Keefe.
"Ronan O'Keefe is James's father".
