Edgeford, August 1996
"Dear James," Abby wrote. "I'll be leaving on the last Friday of August, up to Liverpool for the first ferry over, and then to my aunt and uncle's to stay.". The last word crossed out, Abby wrote next to it, "live."
"The arrangement is a good one; Denise is going to study law at Birmingham and she can get the train from my parents' house. My mum and dad were actually pleased to see me and pleased I'd made a friend in you. We haven't talked about us going out yet, it was enough my mum spoke to me like another human being yesterday, like an equal. We were at the Catholic church, the one she showed you when you came up to stay, the one named after the girl in France who had seen Saint Mary in a vision.
"She showed me where my uncle's funeral was - that was in the church we used to go to - Saint Aidan's - and that she had taken his ashes back home, but had come to the statue garden at the Catholic church to pray, and sit amongst them. Mum had often told me her dad - my grandad - had taken her and her brother there after their own mum had died. There was such a sense of relief in her face. And we went to see the priest - it's to do with my coming back to Derry, though my mum's going to phone Aunt Sandra. It's a secret, and I'll tell you when I get there.
"You remember my friend Tammy? Her brother's to be posted at Derry with the Fusiliers, and another person we knew at school. But Tam wouldn't tell me, so I suppose I have a surprise of my own. I'm making a copy of this letter and sending one to your aunt's house and one to your step-dad's house, so you'll get one before I come back.
"Are you still going to East Bank college? I hope you have done well in your exams.
Love from,
Abby xxx"
Two first class stamps later - because Abby was certain she wanted them to get there quickly, and she posted them in the post box at the end of her street, her heart beating a little faster as James's face appeared in her mind.
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The house of her uncle and aunt in the Fountains estate of Derry felt different, somehow. The smooth journey and easy travel had made to calm Abby a little, but she still felt apprehensive - she had left with the death of her cousin Dean very much around them all and the Gillen family had buried him after Abby had left.
So it was strange to be in the house without her cousin commandeering around the place. Her uncle, however, had seemed to have aged when she arrived that evening as Sandra Gillen has opened the door to her one suitcase.
"It won't be enough," she nodded to Abby's select clothes.
"Mum's sending you some money so I can buy some here," Abby told her, and pulled out the fruitcake that her mum had sent her with to her own recipe that had at least half a bottle of rum in it, and Cadbury's chocolate and sweets.
Her room was much as she'd left it, at the top of the stairs in the top of the house, and Abby had barely anything to put into the Lewisian wardrobe, and stowed her case on the top.
Dean's door was open a fraction Abby noticed as she went downstairs, and she saw that it was made up, as if her cousin had not been killed by the mistimed fuse on his home-made incendiary device, but would be home late that afternoon or evening demanding his tea.
Abby helped her aunt prepare a cold tea spread and put it out on the table in the sitting room beside her uncle. Uncle Warren turned as Abby carried in the tray and followed her with his eyes.
"A good child," he murmured, and held out an arm. Abby didn't know what to do, but shook his extended hand.
"I'm glad to be back, Uncle Warren," she told him, and the old man shuffled in his wheelchair.
"Tell me, child, the school you will go to. Denise's school?"
"Next year," Abby told him. For the grammar school said she needed her AS qualifications first, and they needed to be good for selection. She had to work hard. And that's where the letter she had, in her case, came in. That school has a higher pass rate than the East bank college.
So Abby told him the plan, and what she wanted to do when she had finished, what she wanted to study at university.
"A fine, fine choice; this country has a great deal of geology. You remind me of Denise when she got worked up about her learning. Dean now - "
And then Uncle Warren broke off, and Abby was not at all sure she was feeling uncomfortable because of the look of brokenness that Warren Gillen's face now wore, or because he had given her high praise in comparing her to Denise.
"She is well," Uncle Warren told Abby. "She spoke to us on the phone this morning. She is…we are delighted you were happy to give up your room for her and come back to us. If you hadn't, she would never have been able to go."
So Abby ate her tea, and washed up without complaint, insisting her aunt rest while she did it all, and went - well, not happily, but happier - to bed, the more hopeful she had felt in a very, very long time.
"Denise had called", her uncle had said. Which meant, no more standing on Fagan Street, loitering for the use of the phone box.
Except, perhaps, if she wanted to call James.
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The knock that came at the door when it wasn't even eight in the morning vibrated right through the house and woke Abby up.
She dressed quickly, wondering for a moment where she was, and tripped down the last few stairs onto the mat. Sandra Gillen got there at the same time, tucking a few strands of hair into her headscarf. Her aunt also sported a pair of yellow rubber gloves and an apron - she was tackling the oven, Abby knew, for it had been the one job Abby had not been given when she had lived there before - Aunt Sandra preferred the job herself, scouring the appliance enough to take off the enamel.
"You get it, love," her aunt told Abby, and she opened the latch and twisted the handle, to see two people Abby would never have thought possible to see, either together to see Abby and her aunt, or on the Fountains estate.
"You'd better come in, Mrs Mallon," Sandra told her. "Apologies for this, I was cleaning the oven."
Deirdre Mallon surveyed Sandra Gillen for a moment, her face not moving from the stern features and firm-set mouth that was her usual face, and waited until Sandra disappeared and reappeared without her cleaning attire.
"Warren's in the living room - " she began, but Deirdre Mallon shook her head.
"I won't be long, Sandra," I just wanted to discuss - " she nodded between Abby and the person who had accompanied her. James's expression was both hopeful and nervous. Abby made to say something, but Mrs. Mallon ploughed on.
"I'm not exactly thrilled about the two of them dating Sandra if I'm honest," she told Abby's aunt. If Sandra Gillen was surprised, she didn't show it.
"I couldn't agree more," Aunt Sandra nodded. Deirdre Mallon was looking between James and Abby now, her expression disapproving.
"Aye, well, what with one thing and the other, and the school arrangement, they'll likely sneak around anyway so best in the open, I feel. I believe the mother's approving?"
"She says so," Aunt Sandra agreed.
"As does his step-father," Deidre Mallon nodded to her nephew. "My sister, now, haven't been able to get hold of her. Anyway," she concluded, with brisk sharpness. "No doubt you have your rules; here are mine: one, no staying out past ten, James. The Walls are safe,and anywhere with your cousin. Two, you can walk the girl home to here, but you come the direct route, understand? Down Carlisle Road, understand? And back up through the city centre. Are you listening to me?"
James turned his head from Abby by back to his aunt, his face falling.
"Yes, Aunt Deirdre."
"The way we came?" she pressed.
"Yes," he agreed.
"Third, she is not to stay over at our house under any circumstances, am I making myself clear? No accidental "We didn't notice the time," or, "There's a rainstorm," or "The girl lost her key - "
"She won't have lost her key," Abby's aunt replied. "She won't have one. We have strict arrangements about curfew, Mrs Mallon.".
"Yes," Deirdre Mallon replied, her tone as least convinced as she could possibly be. "I was a teenager once, not only did I know every excuse going, I invented a lot of them.". She looked between Abby and James. "Have you got that, wains?"
"Yes, Mrs. Mallon."
"Yes, aunt Deirdre."
"I know you will have thought of the same things, Mrs. Gillen," Deirdre Mallon continued, in a suddenly more matter-of-fact tone. "We were just passing, on the way to buy James some more clothes ready for school."
"We were going this afternoon," Sandra Gillen told her, "Especially after - " she broke off. "Come and let me look at you, Abby," she added, noticing she was in the same shirt, t-shirt and jeans from the night before, and frowned.
"The things girls dress in today, Deirdre. I bet you don't have any trouble from your Michelle."
"If only my Michelle would dress as sensibly as your Denise," Deirdre Mallon replied. "But, it looks like you are up to your elbows in it, Sandra, and what with her letter - " she glanced to her nephew, who whispered to Abby, "I got it at my step-dad's!" And held up the envelope that Abby had addressed just over a week before.
"Considering where she's going to attend and the trouble her mother went to arranging it," Mrs. Mallon continued, "Would you like me to take her with us? It would be no trouble."