Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

1998. We begin this story a short time before the events of the Good Friday Agreement. With the biggest vote in the history of Northern Ireland vastly approaching. The group of friends that we know, and love began the year facing a plethora of new horizons following Christmas and new year.

                For starters. Erin, as you undoubtedly know, was raging at the news that her parents weren’t prepared to fork out on an extravagant party for her 18^th birthday, not when her birthday was only a few months before Orla’s. So, naturally, they came to a compromise and would have a co-joined 18^th birthday party instead. On a date that was still yet to be confirmed. But on another note. Erin had managed to find herself a part time job working at Foyle’s Books in the town between studying for her A-Levels, which wasn’t too far away from Cousin Declan’s flat on Pump Street. A newfound place of solitude where the group would descend upon. Also, a place where she and James would meet up regularly to revise, and……. Revise some more.

                Meanwhile, James and Marco were faced with a unique situation that neither of them expected. It was one of the very scarce times in their friendship where ‘tribal level hostility’ hung over them. But even the strongest of friendships were put on hold when it came to Football, even English Football, and especially in the FA Cup. Arsenal and Crystal Palace clashed in the FA Cup 5^th round, and for 90 minutes, James and Marco ‘hated’ each other. Twice. The first game finished in a draw and went to a replay.

Naturally, the girls had mixed opinions about the whole affair. Clare tried, and failed to de-escalate the boy’s ‘hostility’.

“I read this article Laurie had; it was written by a Feminist who believes that Sport was created so men could avoid confronting their sexuality!” Clare said. James and Marco furrowed their faces at the declaration, wondering how that had anything to do with them.

“Sounds about right in James’ case.” Michelle quipped.

“Well, clearly she’s mental, Clare!...... Although, the same can be said for these two! I mean, come on lads! it’s just a game of football” Erin chuckled at the stupidity of the boys being at odds over something so trivial.

“Oh no, Erin! Football is NOT a game!” James answered. “Well, clearly, it is a game! But it’s also NOT a game! So, there’s no point in treating it like a game, cos it isn’t a game! Although it clearly IS a game.”

“So… is it a game or not?” Orla asked, clearly confused.

“Well, don’t ask James. And he’s the one using the only brain cell belonging to Crystal Palace!” Marco said sarcastically.

“Oh, you starting again?!” James shot.

“Yeah, I’m starting!” Marco squared up to him.

“LAAAAAADS!!! STORRRRRRP!!!” Orla cried. She stormed out, covering her ears. Unwilling to listen to their spite any further.

“Orla….. Orla, wait we were only joking!” The boys cried out, but it was too late.

“Ach! Nice one! Yer pair of English Pricks!” Michelle snapped. Punching them both in the arm.

Following the incident. James and Marco were unable to really indulge in the replay, knowing they’d upset Orla. The game ended with Arsenal winning. But Michelle was quick to jump on them both. First, she offered James her ‘deepest sympathies’ by jabbing him about Crystal Palace losing. But there was clearly a bigger matter to sort out.

James and Marco both decided that there was only one way to make it up to Orla. So, a few days later. They gate-crashed Cousin Declan’s dance class to re-enact their PJ & Duncan’s ‘Ready to Rumble’ routine, complete with baseball caps and loud, baggy outfits. They were quite the sight as the younger members of the class laughed hysterically along with Orla, Erin, Clare and Michelle, being devious as always, recorded the entire thing on James’ camera. But it was enough for Orla to accept that they were sorry for their ‘wee spat’.

“Ohhhh. Lads! Ye two are so sound!” Orla beamed, forgiving them both.

                Normality resumed, but then, Marco received a phone call from his Dad, Tony who let Marco know he was going to try and get tickets for the FA Cup Final, which took place at London’s Wembley Stadium in the month of May. It was only late February, and there were still the quarter and semi-finals to get through first. However, Arsenal’s tremendous run that season wasn’t the sort of thing anyone would bet against, at least not in England.

 James ‘graciously’ declined the offer from Tony of going to Wembley. Orla smiled at Marco’s excitement, anticipating the possibility of going was enough for her. Knowing all that he’d gone through and how far he’d come. Orla knew Marco deserved a moment like this.

“So, when is the final? I mean, if ya Da does get these tickets?” Orla asked.

“May 16^th.” Marco answered.

Orla’s eyes lit up. “Ohhh! That’s grand! That’s after my birthday!” She said with excitement. “Ach, that means ye get to be here for my birthday and then ye can go see the match, Marco!”

“Haven’t you planned anything for your 18^th yet? You know? Party wise?” Marco asked.

“Well, Aunt Mary said they were trying to sort something, but they haven’t said yet. But I’m sure it’ll be grand!” Orla insisted.

James also took some consolation that if Arsenal were to make it to Wembley, Crystal Palace had been knocked out by the potential winners. Suffice to say, Marco was buzzing. Little did they know what was about to come round the corner regarding this particular situation.

But just as the dust began to settle on the football. The biggest shock for the gang came when Erin took a phone call one afternoon from Clare after school. Mary felt her heart jump in her throat as she stopped what she was doing in the kitchen. She turned and watched, knowing what Erin was about to find out. But the blonde rolled her eyes as she only heard Clare babble something incoherent to her.

“Jesus, Clare! Do ya have any intention of finishing this sentence before the year’s out?” Erin joked.

“I’M MOVING HOUSE, ERIN!” Clare finally blurted out.

Erin stopped. She furrowed her eyes, unsure of what she heard. But she quickly brushed it off. “Ach, catch yourself on! What are ye like Clare?” She chuckled.

“I’m not joking!.......” Clare said. There was no jest in her voice. Only sadness.

“….. Seriously, Clare. Stop messing about. What did ye really wanna say?” Erin asked, her voice sounding desperate.

“I am!..... I’m moving house, Erin. Mam finally sold the house.” Clare repeated; her voice riddled with disappointment.

Erin suddenly felt hazy as she stood in the hallway. Walking from the kitchen, Orla’s jovial skip came to a screeching halt when she saw Erin’s bewildered expression. Mary sadly pressed her lips together. Knowing what was being said without needing to hear it.

“What is it, Erin?” Orla asked.

“Motherfuckers! What’s the craic?” Michelle cried happily, crashing through the front door with James following her. They then stopped.

“Erin, what is it?” James asked, seeing Erin’s eyes well up.

“She’s leaving…. Clare’s Mam’s sold the house…. She’s moving to Strabane!” Erin said sadly. The other four stood, gobsmacked.

                The foursome wasted no time in rushing round to Clare’s to find out as much information as they could. They found the wee lesbian sitting outside her front door, waiting for them. Her eyes were as red as they were that night at the hospital. It felt as if history was repeating itself. The group gathered as Clare explained that she was indeed moving to Strabane. Geraldine Devlin had already informed the school earlier that day of their intentions to move. With their A-level exams beginning in April. It was paramount that Clare be moved to another school, Coleman’s College, to be exact so that her studies would not be disturbed. However, the importance of exams was, for once, not at the forefront of Clare’s mind.

The situation hadn’t truly hit the group until they felt the sun beat down brightly on a breezy Saturday in March. The Quinn/McCool, and Mallon families all made the journey to Strabane to help the Devlin family settle into their new home. Throughout the day, Gerry and Joe had served as a welcome distraction for the wains, laughing as they listened to Joe relentlessly chastise Gerry for being useless in moving the bigger furniture. The Quinn patriarch took it all in his stride as always, much like James had to whenever Michelle ordered him and Marco to double back and pick up the heavy things she couldn’t pick up, largely due to the hangover she’d picked up the night before.

The trouble was, they were all feeling the repercussions from one of Michelle’s concoctions. Choosing to get pished the night before as a going away gesture to Clare was proving to be a bad mistake, all except Orla, who seemed unaffected by their drinking session. While the mammies huffed with disappointment, they knew the wooden spoon couldn’t be utilized under the circumstances. One by one, everyone moved heavy boxes and furniture out of the removal van into the new house while the mammies assumed the position of unpacking things out of the boxes. Michelle cunningly feigned herself unable to move another ‘heavy’ box.

“JAMES!” Michelle shouted out. Exhausted and hungover. “Can you and Marco come and shift this one too?” She ‘groaned’.

“You know, we’re not exactly in the best shape either, Michelle!” James groaned as he caught his breath.

“Stop moaning, Dickweed! Ye two should have taken it easy last night, knowing we were shifting this shite!” Michelle snapped.

“What you talking about, Michelle? It was YOUR idea to get drunk last night!” Marco stressed but grabbed his head through the pain.

“Yeah, I would have thought by now you’d have toughened up, drink wise! But NO! Typical Fucking English….. Oh god!” Michelle felt her stomach churn. She darted round to the side of the van. The lads groaned as they heard Michelle throw up.

“Well, it could be worse, it could be coming out the other end.” Marco gasped, wrenching a burp.

“That’s just wrong, mate. …How you feeling ‘Co?” James huffed.

“Better than Michelle is.” Marco quipped. “God, who’d have thought mixing cider with vodka would be a bad thing, right?” He chuckled.

“I don’t think it was the cider that did it, I think it was the Guinness we had before.” James moaned, clutching his stomach.

“Oi, you two! Shift yourselves! That van’s not gonna unload itself, ye know!” Joe barked from the front door.

“Yes, Joe!” They both said. Although there was only one box left now. As they caught their breath, Orla was heard walking round inside the hollow chamber.

“Surely this is abusive, isn’t it, aye? I mean making us heave all this when we’re all wrecked?” Erin huffed, her head still dizzy, she leant against the back of the removal van.

“I don’t think Esther Rantzen’s gonna step in now, Erin. You’re 18.” Marco quipped, he then felt Orla ambush him with a back hug.

“Aye. don’t remind me.” Erin grunted, leaning on James.

“Urgh, I knew I shouldn’t have had that second bacon sandwich.” Michelle complained. Staggering back round from the side of the van.

“Oh, don’t mention food, Michelle.” James moaned.

“Do ye wanna bit of my DibDab, James?” Orla offered.

“Noooooo!” James groaned. They then turned round and observed the empty void of the loading bay.

“Hiya guys.” Clare walked up sadly to the van. Erin reached her arm out to cradle Clare.

“Alright, Clare? How you feeling?” James asked.

“How d’ya think she’s feeling, Dickhead!” Michelle snapped.

“Ye certainly sound better.” Orla observed. “At least ye stopped shaking.”

“Well thanks for pointing that out, Orla.” Clare frowned.

“Oi, come on. You can’t blame her for being a wee bit shaken.” Michelle said.

“Aye. Fair point.” Erin echoed.

“Hmmm, I mean, to be fair, anyone of us would be the same.” Michelle added.

“Aye, it’s like coming to a crosspoint in your life, not knowing if you’re ready for it, but at the same time not being able to stop it…..” Erin said. “….. It’s bound to leave a mark…..”

“Aye, and if ye don’t T-cut those marks, they’ll never shift.” Orla remarked.

Erin scrunched her face. “What ye on about, Orla? I was talking about Clare moving.”

“Oh, I thought you were talking about the scratches Clare made on the car.” Orla replied. James and Marco glanced at each other.

“Can ye not talk about that, Orla? I feel bad enough as it is!” Clare stressed.

“Plus, It’s the dents you should be really worried about.” Michelle joked.

“Oh Gawd!” James and Marco rolled their eyes.

“Oh, sweet suffering Jesus!” Clare panicked.

“She’s joking, Clare. There aren’t any dents.”  Marco assured her. Shooting a look at Michelle.

“Come on now! In her defence, Clare was the only one out of us sober enough to drive.” James said.

“I think ye did grand, Clare. Given that ye never drove before.” Orla said.

“Orla, she scraped the side of the car against a wall!” Erin exclaimed. “Surprised the RUC aren’t out searching for her as we speak!”

“Aye, but she’s didn’t crash it into another car, did she now, Erin?” Orla asked.

“Ye promised you wouldn’t bring that up….. again!” Erin groaned, her face going red.

“I still can’t believe ye didn’t see thar car, Erin. It’s not like it’s a bag of taytos, is it now?” Michelle chuckled.

“I can’t believe you actually tried to argue with ya driving instructor about it!” Marco laughed.

“It was at a funny angle!” Erin stressed.

“What? So, cars don’t come up behind ya when ya reverse?” Michelle asked sarcastically.

“Alright! Alright! Enough!” James stressed.

“Clare, it’s alright. I looked at the car this morning, it’s not that bad.  Right, James?” Marco said awkwardly.

“No…. not at all! Needed a magnifying glass to see it.” James assured her, unconvincingly.

“Aye, James would know, he’s used to searching for wee things with a magnifying glass.” Michelle joked.

“Honestly.” James sighed as the girls and Marco sniggered, while Orla looked at him with a curious, crooked eye.

Just then, Coco Pops barked at Clare’s feet. Catching her attention, Clare smiled as she picked up and cradled their wee excitable mascot. Her smile slowly turned to a frown as she observed the frowning noises coming from Coco Pops. She then saw the sad frowns on everyone’s faces. They slowly moved in to cradle Clare as the parents began to file out of the house. With the boxes now unpacked. Mary, Deidre, and Sarah embraced her friend Geraldine, mirroring the girls.

“Ye call us if ye ever need anything, Geraldine. Do ye hear?” Mary said.

“Aye. I will, Mary. It’s meant a lot to us, ye being here to help us settle.” Geraldine wept.

“Ye just remember we’re only a phone call away, so don’t ye be a stranger now.” Deidre echoed.

“Derry feels a wee bit empty now without ye, Geraldine.” Sarah cooed.

James motioned the girls to regard their mothers. Watching a group of friends who had been there for each other for so many years; The closeness of their friendship mirrored in the young lives of their children. Seeing the sadness emitting from the group of Derry Women who had all been each other’s eyes and ears for their wains as they grew up together. Clare became overcome with sadness. She reached out and held onto her friends a little bit tighter. Hiding her face that was now strewn with tears. Despite the numerous potential buyers over the past year, this one day had come far too soon. As invincible as they always felt no matter the opposition, from psycho teachers, to blazing chippy infernos, haunted houses, corrupt school board members, even Sister Michael…. they now felt just as vulnerable and scared as they did that Halloween night in 1996.

The group all regarded their wee lesbian friend who could be best described as a walking cack attack, who also had a heart of gold. Each member contemplated the unthinkable of what they’d do without her. Erin remembered meeting Clare at playschool, and how they became inseparable from that day. Michelle swallowed hard as she fondly thought of how Clare would always be the polar opposite to her wild, wilful ways. Orla, as innocent and carefree as she was, couldn’t understand that while love was a wonderful feeling, why did have to hurt sometimes?  James wiped away his own tears, remembering the kind words and encouragement Clare had given him during the first few days after he'd moved to Derry. Marco felt his lip quiver for the friend he’d grown so attached to, sharing her pain of losing a family member, both had been shoulders to cry on in their own private moments.

It was now time for the parents to have a chance to say goodbye to Clare. Even though Strabane was only 20 minutes away, it still felt as if the Devlin family were moving to the other side of Northern Ireland. Mary, for all her stoic manner clenched her eyes shut, tears escaped her eyes as she hugged wee Clare, feeling as if she was losing one of her own. Gerry wiped his eyes as he walked Mary to the car. Joe reserved himself from mocking Gerry’s emotions. As the parents waited in the cars, the gang took a moment to say goodbye to Clare before they made the trip back to Derry. Now one less.

“So…. Is Laurie popping over later?” Erin asked.

“…. Aye. We’re having dinner with Mammy at Marco’s restaurant.” Clare confirmed. Erin pressed her lips together sadly and nodded frantically before embracing her friend.

. “……We love yer, Clare.” Erin sobbed.

“I love all of yers too.” Clare replied sadly. Orla frowned as she walked up to Clare.

“Ye still have yer wee burger phone, right Clare?” Orla managed to utter through her sniffs.

“Aye, I do.” Clare answered.

“OK…. Just make sure ye don’t eat it by mistake. Aye? Cos, I don’t think they sell them anymore.” Orla warned.

“…. I’ll make sure I don’t.” Clare gasped out a wee chuckle. Orla squeezed her tight before letting go.

Marco was next. “I… made you and your Mum some scones. They’re in the fridge. Don’t worry. I made them while Michelle wasn’t around. So, there’s no drugs in them.” Marco quipped with a frown.

“Thanks, Marco. One less thing, aye? See ya later, aye?” Clare nodded, hugging him before handing Coco Pops to him.

“Oi, you come back as much as ye can, ya wee lezzer. Ye can stay at mine, It’s no bother, I’ll just turf James out of his room.” Michelle feigned through her tears.

“That won’t be necessary, Michelle. And I will. Promise.” Clare wept.

“I’m not sure what to say, Clare. Just…. Just……  I’ll buy myself a tent so you can have my room when you visit.” James said.

Through her tears, Clare managed to smile for the wee English fella. “Awwww, James. You’re a legend, ye know that. I’m gonna miss you all so much.”

                The only noise heard on the drive back to Derry was from the radio. There wasn’t much for anyone to say. While Marco made his way to work, Joe drove the girls and James home. Orla rested her head on James’ shoulder for comfort while the wee English fella held Erin’s hand. The petite blonde glanced out of the car window and reflected quietly. She attempted to conjure some kind of philosophical sentence to rationalize the mixture of feelings coursing through her mind, but sadness made it impossible to do so.

                Michelle sat in the front and also reflected on the loss of Clare. The departure of one of the group members reminded the feisty Mallon of another departure in her life. Her brother, Niall. With the approach of the Good Friday vote looming, everyone seemed to become fixated on what this vote would mean for the whole of Northern Ireland. But for Michelle, she kept her opinions close to her chest. The possibility of Paramilitary prisoners being granted a pardon for their past transgressions also stirred deep in her mind. She had kept quiet, as always, about the most recent letter from Niall; a visitors pass for anyone in the family to come and visit him. Michelle had long hoped that her Mam would allow her the chance to go and see him. Now she was 18, she figured she would be able to choose for herself to see Niall. But despite her Mam opening up to Marco over a year ago during his first visit, it had been a steep decline back to the norm where the family were not allowed to speak of him.

Michelle wondered what the next few months would bring…..

Chapter Text

The afternoon was grey and windy. Very windy. In fact, it was raging so much outside. While Declan McCool gazed out the window of his flat’s kitchen, the sound of howling winds, the rattling of old window frames, and flying debris; Declan thought to himself that his dad, Colm would classify the extreme conditions as ‘no day for a do.’ Declan then chuckled to himself about how easy it was to make young James Maguire feel awkward and uncomfortable whenever they met.

As carefree as Declan was, he was also fully aware that the time Erin and James spent alone in his flat wasn’t only used for revision. He could only imagine the repercussions they would face if Mary found out what was going on, despite the fact they were both 18. They still had their final A-level exams approaching soon. The windy weather moved him to turn on the multitude of reading lamps that were scattered around his living room before leaving the front door key under the mat. A short while later, Erin, James and Orla made their way through the town, braving the windy elements towards Declan’s flat. Orla was on her way to meet him at the leisure centre for her dance class and needed to change.

“Alright! Give us a minute!” Orla said before she bounded up the corridor to change. Shortly after, she came back sporting her favourite purple spandex trousers, baggy black shorts, rainbow leg warmers, a silver long sleeve leotard top, and a baggy white t-shirt.

“Jesus Christ, Orla! Ye look like ye got changed in the dark.” Erin laughed.

Orla appeared unmoved by her quip. “Alright, I’m off now! See you guys later.”

“Bye Orla!” James called as she waved him goodbye. Leaving the couple standing by themselves in the living room. The reading lamps creating a warm aura around them.

“Alright?” Erin asked, smirking knowingly at James.

“Yeah….. you?” James smiled back.

“I’m grand…. Come ‘ere.” She purred. James smiled as he obliged with Erin’s request. They clashed with a slow deep snog before Erin pulled away to see James’ blushing face.

“Hmmm, so is that a calculator in ya pocket, or are ye just happy to see me, James?” Erin smirked alluringly at the wee English fella.

“Well, that’s a new line!” James spluttered. Making Erin giggle mischievously.

“So, what time does Freeman’s close?” She asked, her voice mixed with tension and excitement as she felt James’ hands roam freely, gently caressing her.

“6 o’clock.” James answered, feeling the same tension building inside him.

Erin glanced at the big clock on the wall before turning back to James. “Grand…… Cool…. Dead on…. Come on, come with me.” She said with an excited, shaky voice. She took James by the hand and lead him up the corridor.

Back at the Quinn House. The TV was rife with news about the upcoming Good Friday agreement which was only a couple of months away. The news went over the different aspects, and the implications of what a YES or NO vote would mean to Northern Ireland. While Joe sat and listened intently, he struggled to make head nor tail of what was being said. Undoubtedly, it was a pivotal moment for all generations involved, past, present and future. Just then, the TV began to go static again.

“Ach, for Christ’s sake! This fecking Telly!” The auld man cried. Marching up to the TV to give a sound whacking.

“Da! Leave it! Let Gerry sort it when he gets home!” Mary ordered.

“I know what I’m doing! I don’t need to wait for that useless prick!” Joe insisted. Mary rolled her eyes at Joe’s words as she took a seat at the kitchen table next to Sarah, who appeared to be flustered.

“How goes it love?” Gerry called as he came in from work.

“Telly’s on the blink again, Gerry!” Mary called.

“It’s under control!” Joe yelled. Bashing the top of the TV. As he persisted, the audio and picture began to become more distorted.

“Joe! Will ya kindly not bash the Telly!” Gerry cried. Walking into the living room.

“And will you kindly not tell me how to fix a fecking Telly!” Joe shot back.

“And will ya kindly piss off and leave me alone, ya moaning wee shite!” Sarah suddenly blurted out.

“I’m sorry!?” Gerry asked, turning towards the kitchen.

“No such luck there, Sarah. I’ve been telling Gerry that for years, but he won’t listen.” Joe remarked.

“Who are ye taking to, Sarah?!” Mary asked.

“It’s that American solider again, Mary! You’d think he’d have better things to do in the afterlife other than irritate me!” Sarah stressed.

“I’m sorry, what’s this now?” Gerry asked, clearly confused.

“Is that the same American solider that harassed you at that séance?” Joe asked.

“The very same, Daddy!” Sarah nodded.

“How in the name of God are ye talking to ‘im?” Mary asked.

“I’ve taken up a course in becoming a medium, Mary.” Sarah said.

“Wise up, Sarah. Ye haven’t been a medium since ye were 14!” Mary quipped.

Sarah gawked at her sister. “Well, that was a poor attempt of humour, Mary. Plus, I can’t help that when nature took its course, the Lord blessed me with the body of a goddess. Mind you, I’ll not lie to ya, it can be a burden sometimes, so it can.” she sighed.

“You keep yer eyes off, ya free state pervert!” Joe shot at Gerry.

“I wasn’t even…… Jesus wept!” Gerry groaned.

“Besides, that visit to Carlos Santini inspired me to broaden my spiritual horizon, since I’m a fully qualified psychic, I’m going to be a spiritual medium.” Sarah declared.

“Are ye sure that’s not just the kimberly’s talking again, Sarah?” Gerry quipped.

“You keep ya sceptical opinion to yourself!” Joe snapped.

“Aye, to question the spiritual world is like tampering with fate, Gerry. Like old Mrs Harland up the road and her husband.” Sarah added.

“That auld girl? Why? What did she tell ya?” Mary asked.

“Well, I’m not the type to gossip, Mary. But she said her husband went off one night to play cards with his friends in the pub when she explicitly told him not to. But in his haste, he picked up her tarot cards by mistake.” Sarah said.

“He….. went off to play cards with her tarot cards?” Mary asked.

“How did he fare?” Joe asked

“Not very well, Da. He lost.” Sarah said.

“Surprise! Surprise!” Gerry exclaimed.

“But he was the lucky one. He owed quite a bit of money to the other five fellas he was playing with.” Sarah pointed out.

“How’s that lucky?” Gerry asked

“Well, the other five fellas all died a short while after.” Sarah revealed.

Joe broke the stunned silence. “Well, the auld saying goes. Ye live by the cards, ye die by the cards.” He shrugged.

“No one has ever said that, Joe.” Gerry shot.

“…… Fancy a game of cards later, Gerry? Joe asked, holding up the tarot cards.

“Alright, less of that! You two get on with fixing that Telly…….. Ach, Christ! I forgot! I was meant to ring the parish hall for the girls’ party!” Mary then cried.

Sarah casually lit herself a cigarette as Mary rushed out into the hallway to call the parish hall. As Joe unleashed another smack on the top of the TV, Gerry protested loudly while Mary huffed with frustration as she waited for the parish hall to pick up. Just then, the line went dead., along with everything else in the house, from the washing machine to the lights, and the TV.

“What the feck have you done now?!” Joe barked to Gerry.

“I didn’t touch anything!” Gerry insisted.

“What is it now?!” Mary shouted, she then felt someone tap her leg.

It was Anna. “Daddy and Granda broke the Telly, Mammy.” She said, pointing towards the living room.

As they regarded each other’s exuberated expression, Erin and James smiled broadly at each other. The discarded uniforms were scattered around the bedroom floor as they lay on their sides with their arms and legs intwined around each other, hidden under the familiar warm, soft multicoloured duvet.

“I really love you.” Erin said, finally catching her breath.

“I really love you.” James replied affectionately.

“Do ya reckon if we go to the same uni, it’d be just like this, aye?” Erin asked hopefully.

“I definitely wouldn’t be complaining.” James chuckled happily.

Erin failed to repress the smile spreading across her face. “….. I know I’ve said this before…. But I don’t wanna get up.” She sighed happily, pressing herself against him.

“Me neither. But we do need to try and ring Freeman’s.” James admitted.

“Aye, I know. We gotta get Orla’s present sorted.” Erin agreed as she rested her head on James’ chest.

“Erin….. I know I’ve asked this question a few times…..” James began.

“Ach, ye still not worried about the very first time we did it are ye?” Erin asked, glancing up at him.

James contorted with embarrassment. “Well, you must admit, compared to now, it was a bit…. Quick.”

Erin snorted. “Aye, to be fair I probably spent more time chewing on a malteser than that first time.”

“Ok, thanks, Erin!” James huffed. He went to move, but Erin giggled before pulling him back down on top of her.

“But ye made up for it the second time, didn’t ya now?” She smirked.

James couldn’t help but smile coyly. But he still appeared anxious. “Yeah, but….”

“James. It was our first time ever. And if ye recall I was having my own wee cack attack till you pulled out those Shakespeare lines….. It was lovely…… But look at us now. 18 months, and I have NEVER been happier….. and each time, it gets more and more class!” Erin beamed dramatically.

Her dramatic declaration made the couple collapse with laughter in the bed before they finally moved to get dressed. It was still light outside as Erin and James sauntered back to the living room, their hands intwined together.

“Right, got the catalogue?” Erin asked. James produced the catalogue.

“Aaaaand….. Got Marco’s debit card.” James retorted. As Erin rifled through the catalogue. She glanced over at James.

“So…..?” She asked.

“So what?” James asked back.

“Do ye not have anything to say about me and….. how it is for you?” She asked curiously.

James pondered what he could say as he held her hand. “You…. You….. Yoooooou……”

“Ayyyyeeeeeeeeee……?” Erin answered comically.

“I…….. can’t really think of anything to say……. Other than……. Cracker?” James said, smiling.

“Cracker? What, that’s it?” Erin asked curiously.

James had a playful glint in his eye. “How about ……. Spectacularly cracker?”

“….. Slightly better…..” Erin replied teasingly.

“How about…. The fact that you make me feel loved every time I see you, or the fact that I’m the luckiest lad in Derry, cos I’m in love with the most incredible Derry girl?” James added, beaming a wide smile at Erin.

Erin felt her cheeks blushing. She couldn’t help the smile spreading across her face as she looked lovingly at her wee English fella. “……. Aye, that’ll do fine.” She laughed. “I think I best ring these people up, aye?” Erin moved to dial the number on the Freeman’s catalogue.

“This might be a stupid question. But do you think Orla’s gonna like it?” James asked. Looking at the catalogue

Yeah, that IS a stupid question…. Wise up. She’ll go mental for it.” Erin answered, bringing the handset to her ear. But then she appeared puzzled. She tapped the phone hook to clear the line but there was no sound.

“What’s wrong?” James asked. Seeing the look on Erin’s face.

“Phone’s not working. Oi, all the reading lamps are switched off…. What’s that noise?” Erin asked.

James listened and then walked over to the window. He looked out and down onto Pump Street. Pockets of people talked anxiously amongst themselves while shop owners hastily pulled down their security shutters.

“What’s going on, James?” Erin called from the living room.

“I dunno….” James looked towards the street below and noticed a man walking along the pavement. “Excuse me? Can you tell me what’s going on?” He called down.

“Fuck off ye English prick!” Came the answer.

“Oi! Who the feck you calling an English prick?! Stop being a dick and tell us what’s going on?!” Erin shouted down to the man, joining James at the window.

“It’s a Power cut! No doubt some Fucking Protestant’s likely cut off the power!” The man shouted up before walking off.

Erin and James looked puzzlingly at each other. They decided to make their way back to Erin’s house. The petite Derry girl groaned with annoyance as she knew her Mam would give her stick for not ordering Orla’s birthday present. While they walked through the blustery streets. Just as Erin fretted and conspired over what excuse she could give Mary; they were spotted by Michelle as they went past Dennis’ wee shop.

“Oi! You two! Wait for me!” Michelle ran after the halted couple.

“What ye doin’? Don’t you have a shift to finish?” Erin asked her.

“What’s the point. There’s no power. Heard it on the radio just now.  It’s hit here, Drumahoe, Culmore, even Strabane.” Michelle informed them.

“Oh Jesus! I can only imagine what Clare’s doin’ right now.” Erin stressed.

Michelle scoffed “Surprised we can’t hear ‘er cacking herself! So, did ya two do it?” She asked casually.

“I’m sorry?” James asked.

“Did ya two do it?” Michelle repeated.

“That’s a bit personal, isn’t it Michelle?”  James asked, shuffling with embarrassment.

“What ye losing the run of yaself for? I’m just asking if ye did it?” Michelle asked.

“Well, I’d rather not discuss mine and Erin’s privacy, if you don’t mind!” James stressed.

“She’s not asking about THAT, James!” Erin snapped.

Michelle jabbed James in his arm. “Ya dirty English bastard! Like I wanna know about that! I was asking if ye ordered the chocolate fountain for Orla! Argh for fuck’s sake….. ya mean you two were busy riding and the power went off before ye ordered it, aye?”

“We didn’t know this was gonna happen!” Erin protested.

“Right, you better jump on that when the power comes back on!” Michelle lectured James.

“Yes, alright. I will.” James groaned.

“Christ! Like a pair of rabbits. The pair of yous!” Michelle shot.

“Oh, well. THAT’S the pot calling the kettle black!” Erin shot back hysterically.

“Isn’t it the other way around?” Michelle asked.

“It’s not!” Erin snapped.

“Alright! Don’t get ya knickers on a twist. Well not again.” Michelle quipped.

“Shut ya bake and come on now.” Erin rolled her eyes as they made their way back to her house.

It was a surreal situation as the late afternoon slowly began to give way to dusk. Erin saw the breaks in the darkened clouds that raced across the sky from the gusting winds. James took out his video camera and filmed the same imagery as they walked down the streets of terraced houses. They passed neighbours who talked among themselves while they rallied to support each other. By the time they got back to the Quinn house, they saw Marco pull up with Orla, Declan, and another passenger.

“You alright mate?” James asked him through the blustery wind.

“Pffft. Not really. Got to the barricade, and the Solider told me the power cut’s affected Strabane, so I turned back. I saw Orla and Declan come out the leisure centre, and then we went and made another stop…..” Marco answered.

Erin furrowed her eyes. “Another stop?..... Oh shiiiit!!” She whispered under her breath as Uncle Colm got out of the car.

“Hallo wains. Howling like a banshee, isn’t it aye?” Uncle Colm asked.

“Aye, it is. Uncle Colm.” Erin answered, feeling the wind hit her cheeks.

“Come on now, Da. In we go.” Declan said. As he led Uncle Colm up to the house.

“This weather’s proper cracker isn’t it, aye?!” Orla cried happily to the group.

“Oh yeah. Blinding weather, Orla.” James moaned.

“Ach, stop being a whining pussy and get inside!” Michelle said. As the group went to go inside, they spotted Coco Pops barking at the window.

                The house already had candles scattered around the living room, from the windowsill to the fireplace. They heard Joe barking at Colm to pipe down as they moved in to listen intently to the radio which was positioned in the middle of the kitchen table, giving the latest updates.

“… Local Authorities have informed us that the power cut has stretched as far as Strabane and advises everyone in Derry and the neighbouring areas to stay at home and to not venture out unless it is absolutely necessary….. The police Constabulary has issued a statement that while the windy conditions have been the main cause for the power outage, they will not rule the possibility of arson….”

“Aye. I say it was arsin, alright. Some prick arsin’ about!” Joe groaned angrily.

“Right, well if we’re gonna need to stay indoors. You two best stay here. No doubt your Mam and Da will still be working…..” Mary said to Michelle. “Erin, I want you and James to go up to the airing cupboard and bring the blankets down. It’s gonna have to be a cold dinner….. We’re gonna need bread, ham, cheese, tomato, pickle…. Gerry, write this down.” Mary ordered, flinging him a notepad.

“Alright, calm down Mary. It’s not the apocalypse.” Gerry said as he went to write.

“Shut ya bake and get a move on.” Joe snapped.

“And we’re gonna need some Kimberlys.” Sarah added.

“And put down a bottle of Jameson.” Joe added.

“Oh aye! Smart thinking, Joe. If this thing goes into the night, we’re gonna need to keep our spirits up.” Michelle agreed.

“Will we need to nail the doors shut?” Orla asked with excitement.

“Catch yourself on.” Erin huffed as she turned to go upstairs.

“It’s a power cut, Orla, not a hurricane.” Uncle Gerry answered. Orla groaned with disappointment.

Uncle Colm then spoke. “Well, ye say that now, Gerry….  But there’s actually a very distinct difference between hurricanes, it’s mostly to do with the windspeed…..Now, the one occurring outside might be raging, but it would still be only meek when compared to the night of big wind, which occurred back in 1839……”

“Oh Gawd. This is what he was going on about in the car.” Marco groaned to James.

“Now it was said that nearly a quarter of the houses in Dublin were raised to the ground…. There was also about 42 ships that were lost at sea during the storm, along with widespread flooding, but where things get really interesting…..”

“I doubt it.” Joe grumbled.

“…. Is when there was a large uprooting of roofs from country houses…. Which would likely have included the roofs to the outside privies. Now, you can understand that if anyone had been in the middle of a difficult bowel movement….. having your privy roof blown off would be the last thing you’d want to happen to you, especially if you’d been eating one too many radishes, you might start to wonder whether it was the storm that caused it, or it might have been yourself…..”

“Desperate!” Orla replied.

“Very much so.” Sarah added.

“Now, at the time, It was said that the night of the big wind was the worst storm that hit these shores for 300 years……”

“About the same he started telling us this story.” Gerry grumbled lowly.

“Listen Uncle Colm. I’m sure we’ll have plenty of time to hear all this…… God help us….. But we need to get a move on.” Mary interjected. “Now, once we’re sorted, I want you wains upstairs to get your revision done. Marco, do ye mind popping down the shops to get what we need, love?”

“Yea, sure.” Marco nodded.

“I’ll come with ya, lad.” Joe said.

“Aye, I’ll come too. I’m running low on hairspray, and I’ll be damned if I let this storm wreak havoc on my hair.” Sarah jolted up and followed Joe and Marco out the door.

                As the evening drew in closer, the lights from the scattered candles created an aura of warmth in the living room. As the parents sat and listened to Uncle Colm continue his ‘informative’ story about the big wind of 1839; Mary glanced towards Gerry to think of a way of getting him to stop.

“How about we play a game?” Gerry suggested.

“A game? Are ye mental?” Mary shot. “Do ya not remember what happened the last time when we played trivial pursuit? You and Da almost killed each other.”

“I was only following the rules that he set up! ‘The answer must match exactly what it says on the cards’ he said.” Gerry answered.

“You saying you got a problem with following my rules, boy?” Joe barked.

“I did follow your rules, Joe. And you didn’t answer correctly.” Gerry argued.

“You probably switched the cards so Uncle Joe would give the wrong answer!” Declan shot.

“How could I do that? He was holding the stack of questions at the time!” Gerry argued.

“Yeah, a likely story!” Declan shot. Stirring the pot.

“Enough! Let’s just forget about the game idea.” Mary snapped.

“It was a stupid game anyway.” Joe grumbled.

“Aye, it’s not a patch on Guess Who?” Sarah spoke up. “How about I give a séance?” She then suggested.

“What’s that now?” Gerry asked.

“I think that’s a grand idea!” Joe exclaimed. “Call the wains to come down once they’ve done their revision.”

The need for revision gave the group, minus Clare the ultimate excuse to not have to listen to Uncle Colm, or the ensuing argument downstairs. The wind howled and rattled outside as they sat bundled inside Erin’s room. They were thankful that Erin’s portable HiFi was battery operated, so they were able to listen to some CD’s. Songs like ‘Stop’ by Spice Girls, ‘Let me entertain you’ by Michelle’s Robie Williams, ‘Angel Street’ by M People and ‘Frozen’ by Madonna brought an element of relaxation as they wiled away the hours with their revision. The time was now 8:20pm.

Michelle huffed with frustration; with only the candles lighting the room, the lack of proper light made her eyes sting as she read. Orla glanced down at her wee cousin, Anna who had joined them. She was sitting comfortably on Marco’s lap. Propped on some pillows on the bedroom floor, Marco was reading quietly to the younger Quinn who smiled contently as he read. With Coco Pops snuggled up to them as well, Orla couldn’t help but feel slightly envious as she revised. She wished for the end to come.

“Ach, that’s it! I’m done!” Michelle stressed as she rubbed her eyes.

“Yeah, somewhere, I can hear Clare saying otherwise.” Erin huffed.

“Are we done now?” Orla asked anxiously.

“I think so.” James nodded.

“Oh, Thank God!” Orla threw her book down with relief. She happily made her way onto the bedroom floor and snuggled up with Marco, Anna and Coco Pops.

“Marco. Read more?” Anna said.

“OK.” Marco continued to read.

“It’s a shame we can’t call Clare to see how she’s getting on.” James yawned.

“It’d be a sight just to see her havin’ an epic size cack attack.” Michelle scoffed.

Erin nodded but then huffed out with exhaustion. “Ye know what? Maybe Michelle has a point. I’m knackered.” She agreed.

“That’s not the only reason why you’re knackered.” Michelle quipped.

“What’s she talkin bout Erin?” Orla asked curiously.

“NOTHING ORLA!” Erin interjected.

“Nothing, Orla. She’s just…. Having a joke.” James insisted.

“…… Yeaaaaah alright.” Marco taunted him lightly.

“Oh, piss off!” James chuckled with embarrassment.

“Oi, mind ya language in front of Anna, Dickhead!” Michelle shot.

“Again, the pot calling the kettle black.” Erin shot back.

“Piss off.” Anna suddenly said. Marco and Michelle both creased with laughter.

“Anna! Don’t you say that!” Orla gawked in shock.

“Piss off.” Anna repeated.

“Ach, nice one, James!” Erin snapped.

“Anna, nooooo. That’s naughty. No say that. Ok?.....” Marco said to her softly.

Orla went to speak. “Aye. Ye see Anna. You shouldn’t swear, cos when ya swear. Jesus hears ya and if ya keep on swearing, he gets proper pissed off with ya and sends ye to Hell when ye die.” She exclaimed, pointing upwards.

“Oh, aye! That’s grand Orla! Traumatize my sister now, why don’t ya?” Erin groaned. “Anna, come ‘ere now…..” Anna got up and walked over to Erin. “Listen. There’s some words ye don’t say, and if ye say those words in front of Mammy, she gets very VERY angry, doesn’t she aye?” Erin asked. Anna smirked as she nodded. “Right, so be a good girl, and for the love of God. No say that, OK?” Erin asked desperately.

“……OK.” Anna smiled. She turned back to join Orla and Marco. Erin wasn’t so sure as she heard Mary calling up to them.

“Wains! Come on down!” Mary called.

Without hesitation, they all got up and went downstairs. As they came into the kitchen, there was a plate of sandwiches on the kitchen top. The group were ravenous as they devoured the piled plate. The group then regarded the circle of candles that were placed in the centre of the kitchen table. They then noticed that Sarah was making some rather unusual movements and making strange humming noises. While Orla watched her mam intently, the others stood confused.

“What IS she doing?” Erin asked.

“Oi. Those sandwiches were alright, weren’t they?” James asked in alarm.

“My thoughts exactly.” Michelle added.

“The sandwiches are grand! Sarah’s just practicing her spiritual medium techniques.” Mary explained.

“Woah! That’s cracker, mammy! Ye never told me ye can talk to ghosts!” Orla beamed.

“She cannot talk to ghosts, Orla!” Erin snapped.

“She’s looks like she’s having seizure!” Marco shot. Sarah suddenly gasped. Her eyes shot wide open.

“I….. am ready…..” Sarah spoke.

“Ready for the loony house.” Erin quipped.

“Less of the cheek!” Mary snapped.

“Everyone….. gather round.” Sarah requested, her voice soft but solemn. Mary motioned everyone to sit at the table. They pulled out the spare stools and sat around the square kitchen table. “Everyone….. form a circle on the table with your hands.” She said.

“I cannot believe we’re doing this.” Erin sighed.

Michelle then groaned at James. “Ach, I don’t want your fingers touching mine!”

“There’s nothing wrong with my fingers. They’re clean!” James protested.

“They’re English fingers!” Michelle moaned.

“I like fish fingers.” Orla said.

“Oh for god sake!” Erin moved and sat between them.

“Shhhh!” Joe shushed them. They turned to Sarah.

“Now I would like all of you to clear your minds…..” She said.

“That won’t take long.” Erin quipped quietly.

“Shush Erin!” Mary snapped again.

“I want you all…..to relax. You will have to bear with me because this is my first time. But do not be alarmed. The spirit world is nothing to fear. Most of the time they’re here with us, and you’d never know it. Even when you’re in the middle of your most private intimate moments, they are with you.” Sarah informed them eerily.

“Well, that’s a comfort!” Gerry shot.

“Hmmm…..” Michelle smirked as she felt a pleasant shiver shoot up her spine.

“What?” Erin scoffed.

“It’s just the thought of some ghosts trying to catch a peek of my tits. I’ve probably got a wee fan base in the afterlife.” Michelle said teasingly.

“Not now Michelle.” James groaned.

“…… I bet they come often.” Marco quipped.

“Will you shut uuuup!” James moaned, making Marco and Michelle cackle.

“Are they really always with us, mammy? Even when we’re on the toilet or something?” Orla asked in alarm.

“Oh…. I’m sure the spirit world has its idea of discretion, love.” Sarah assured her. “And don’t be afraid if what I say might sound a wee bit off. The spirit world will say things beyond our understanding.” Sarah cautioned them.

“Suits her then.” Erin sniped quietly. Uncle Colm spoke up.

“Ach, that’s very true Sarah. But then again there are things in the physical world that can be easily misconstrued as well….”

“How?” Gerry asked.

“Do ye have to ask him that?” Joe moaned as Uncle Colm continued.

“…. Why only last week Declan treated me to a night out. And given that it was the middle of the week where I normally have a kipper for supper…..”

“So he said to himself, said he……” Marco whispered.

“And I said to be self says I…..” Colm said. Making the group splutter. “…. Colm, maybe it’s a chance for you to have a break from the mundane routine……”

“I’d wish he’d give us a break from it.” Joe grumbled.

“Ach. Don’t worry Uncle Joe, this is actually a funny story.” Declan chuckled.

“…… So, as we ventured out ….. Declan and myself arrive at the restaurant and sit down, and I proceeded to look for the menu for which there wasn’t one at the table, and not only a few minutes thereafter a waitress comes along and hands us the said menu and I proceeded to go through the starters and the main courses, and I thought to myself, I thought….. I wonder if they have fish on the menu…..for I was still partial to having fish for supper…..”

“You know how Goldfish have a memory of only 7 seconds?” Joe said.

“Yeah?” Gerry queried.

“I wish he did.” Joe shot.

“So…..I glanced to see if they did, but I couldn’t find anything specific in the menu and I remember saying to myself says I….. Colm, you’re best to ask the waitress to see if they have it on the Chef Special…… and I summoned the waitress back over to the table, which might have taken her a few minutes as she was attending to some other people that were only a few feet away, and when she came back, I remember saying to her I said…. can I ask you something about the menu please…… upon which the young waitress proceeded to slap me straight across the face.” Uncle Colm’s statement made everyone stand at attention.

“She did what now?” Mary cried in alarm.

“Why would she do that, Uncle Colm?” Sarah asked.

“Here it comes….” Declan declared.

“Don’t worry, I think I’m already there.” Gerry sighed.

“Well, I’m not entirely sure why, but as she walked away, she shouted something back to me. Something along the lines of….

The men I please have got nothing to do with you! Ya wee auld pervert…..”

“Desperate!” Orla hummed.

“And I thought to myself I thought, maybe she might have got the wrong end of the stick in what I was trying to ask her, but for the life of me, I couldn’t say what it is.” Colm shrugged. Joe motioned for everyone to refrain from answering.

“Jesus, your Uncle Colm called some woman a prozzie!” Michelle sniggered to Erin.

“Right…. Well in that case I think we’ll begin…..” Sarah said, instructing everyone to touch fingers in the circle once again. “Once I have made contact with the spirits, please refrain from interrupting….”

Sarah began to slowly sway from side to side. Her eyes were wide open, almost in a trance as she hummed to herself. The looks from the assembled were a mixture of confusion, disbelief, and intrigue. Sarah then closed her eyes and slowly opened them again.

“The spirits….. are amongst us…..” Sarah said eerily as everyone slowly looked around them. The light from the table candles were the only light illuminating the room with the darkness surrounding them as the wind still howled outside.

“A man has stepped forward…. He has dark eyes and tattoos all over him. He’s young. He’s dressed quite provocatively.” Sarah declared.

“Dirty wee bastard! Girls, close your eyes!!” Joe ordered.

“Shhhhh Da!” Mary hissed.

“Ooohhhhhh!!!!!” Sarah hummed in astonishment.

“What is it, Sarah?” Mary asked.

“I can hear him singing. It’s muffled but he’s definitely a singer! I must say he’s very handsome, and he’s got a lovely wee singing voice. You know, I think he might be famous.” Sarah exclaimed.

“No way! Who is it?” Michelle asked with intrigue.

“No way are you believing this!” Erin stressed.

“I don’t how to say this….. but I think it’s that Young fella who walked out on This and That!” Sarah exclaimed.

“Take That!” Erin corrected her.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!!!! are you telling me Robbie Williams is dead!” Michelle exclaimed in alarm.

“Robbie Williams is dead?!” Declan echoed.

“Are you serious?!” James gawped.

“He’s not dead!” Erin argued.

“How do you know?! There’s no power to watch the news!” Michelle panicked.

“I have nothing left to live for!” Declan cried in despair.

“What you talking about?” Michelle asked Declan.

Orla gave the sign of the cross. “Hope you’re made it up with the lads before ye died, Robbie!” She called.

“He’s not dead, Orla!” Erin snapped.

“I told ye we had a telepathic connection! He’s come to see me!” Michelle exclaimed, shooting out of her chair.

“Huh! You?! In ya dreams, sweetheart! He’s likely come to see me!” Declan shot. Squaring up to her.

“Kiss my actual hole! Robbie’s mine!” Michelle shot back.

“OK, Michelle!... Declan?..... You’re both acting a bit mental here!” Marco stressed.

“PISS OFF MARCO!” They both snapped.

“For the love of God! Robbie Williams is not dead!” Erin said again.

“Robbie! I love you!!!!! I’ll always love you!!!!” Michelle stressed sadly, looking upward.

“Then explain why I’m hearing his voice in my left ear, Erin?” Sarah asked firmly.

“Everybody shut up a minute!” Mary ordered. Everyone quietened down. There was a quaint sound of music.

“Oh…… Wait a minute…… That’s just my Walkman, Mammy.” Everyone groaned as Orla reached for her headphones and the sound of ‘Back for good’ could be heard. Michelle let out a heavy sigh of relief.

“Oh….. Oh, thank fuck for that!” Michelle gasped.

“Yeah, ye almost overreacted there for a wee moment.” Declan said.

“So did you!” Michelle shot back.

“Well, who’s the fella then?” Joe asked.

“…. Oh! Oh, he’s gone, Daddy.” Sarah said.

“Ach, nice one! Ya wee Gay prick! Ye scared Robbie away!” Michelle snapped angrily at Declan.

“It wasn’t Robbie!” Erin groaned.

“Huh! Have ye looked in the mirror lately?” Declan fired back at Michelle.

“Alright! Calm down, Michelle!” James exclaimed, coming between them before his cousin blew a gasket.

“And curve ya tongues! The par of yers!” Mary snapped. Michelle and Declan stared each other down as they took their seats again.

“Right…. let’s try again. Sarah suggested.

“Oh yes. Please do.” Gerry said sarcastically.

“You keep that tone up, you’ll be the one talking from the other side, and I’ll be the one to send ye there!” Joe snapped. Everyone began to simmer down and Sarah breathed deeply. She opened her eyes again.

“I can sense someone…. There’s someone here….”

“Ach, Mammy. Course there is. We’re all here.” Orla smiled.

“Shut up Orla.” Erin stressed.

“Who is it Sarah?” Mary asked.

“It’s….. It’s a woman. Hmmm….. Credit where credits due she has a sensational 50s style haircut. Fair play to yer Missus.” Sarah regarded.

“So, it’s not Mammy?” Mary asked.

“No, definitely not Mammy.” Sarah confirmed.

“I’ll wager she has something to do with this prick here!” Joe motioned towards Gerry.

“Me? Why me?” Gerry stressed.

“I finally have some dirt on you , boy! It’s his mistress! His murdered mistress!” Joe snapped.

“Da!” Mary groaned.

“That’s probably why I never found anything on him before! He done away with her before she exposed him!” Joe stressed.

“Is this true, Uncle Gerry?!” Orla gawped.

“I don’t believe I’m hearing this! I do not have a mistress!” Gerry stressed.

“Course ye don’t! She’s come back to haunt yer!” Joe shot.

“The woman’s saying she doesn’t know Gerry, Daddy. But she says he’s quite handsome.” Sarah said.

“She saying what?! You tell whoever that is to keep her eyes off my husband!” Mary snapped.

“…. I’m getting something…… She’s holding a photograph. It’s the same woman but years younger, a wee bit, it’s a picture of her and two boys…. She says she wishes to speak to someone called….. Luke?” Sarah said puzzlingly.

Luke?- Everyone looked at each other in confusion.

“Alright there, how’s it going?” Orla said suddenly.

“Shut up Orla. Your name’s not Luke!” Erin snapped.

“Who the feck is Luke?” Gerry asked.

“I think ye need to tell her she’s got the wrong house, Sarah.” Mary suggested. Michelle then saw a gawping expression on James’ face.

“No…..  not Luke…… something like Luke, but different.” Sarah said.

“What’s wrong with you? Your name’s not Luke either.” Michelle shrugged.

“No, my name isn’t……” James said with a shaken tone, he slowly turned to Marco who had the same shocked expression.

“What……?” Erin asked.

“That’s my middle name.” Marco gawped.

Orla’s jaw dropped. “Ye never told us ye had a middle name?!” She exclaimed; her eyes widened in amazement.

“Hold on! I’m confused, lads! You mean to say this whole time ye had a middle name and ye never thought to tell us?!” Erin stressed.

“You never asked.” Marco replied.

Orla looked off for second. “Marco…. Luke…. Galluci?” She seemed confused. “That doesn’t sound very Italian.” She shook her head.

“It’s short for Gianluca.” Marco said.

“Ohhhh…. Marco Gianluca Galluci…. That’s make it even better!” She cried happily.

“You know this woman, lad?” Joe asked.

Marco looked off, feeling a panicky tension in his chest. “…… It can’t be…. Nanna?” He looked up.

Orla gawped. “It’s your Nanna?!” She beamed. “Alright Mrs Galluci! You’re looking well!” She smiled, looking up.

“Ohhh she said thank you, Orla.” Sarah smiled.

“Has to be….. she was the only one who ever called you that name.” James smiled at Marco.

“Quiet wains! Let Sarah talk to her.” Mary said.

Sarah furrowed her eyes with intent. “She says…. Awww…. She says she’s proud of you, son…”

Marco couldn’t deny the emotional pang in his chest at Sarah’s words. The parents cooed to themselves as they saw Marco swallow hard to try and control his emotions. His eyes welled up slightly. Sarah went on…. “She also says…. Oh! She’s saying hello to you, James.”

“Gone James. Say hello.” Orla beamed.

James hesitated for a second. “Hello Mrs Galluci.”  He said timidly. Erin and Michelle sniggered.

“She says….. something about a journey….. an approaching moment of truth….. tension…. division…. Partings and…. Reunions….. a need for forgiveness….. and ye need to go and get ya eyes checked Marco?” Sarah added.

“Forgiveness?” Erin furrowed his eyes.

“Are you sure? There’s nothing wrong with my eyes, Nanna.” Marco said, looking up.

Michelle then spoke. “Probably been doing too much…..”

“Michelle! Don’t say it!” James stressed.

“…… Wanking.” She whispered to Erin.

“Ohhhh…. She’s going.” Sarah then said.

“What? Get her back!” Marco stressed.

“I’ll try….. Mrs Galluci…. If you can hear me, come back, Marco has a few wee questions for yer…..” Sarah called. Everyone looked up.

“Is she there?” Marco asked desperately.

“Mrs Galluci…. If you’re there…. Can ye give us a sign?” Sarah called. Suddenly the main kitchen light came on.

“Ach, looks at that! Mrs Galluci brought the lights back on.” Orla smiled.

Their relief was then replaced by fear when a loud, forceful banging was heard on the front door. Everyone screamed out in alarm and clambered out of their seats to face the front door while Uncle Colm sat impassively in his seat. Coco Pops barked relentlessly in the direction of the noise.

“What the fuck is that?!” Michelle screamed.

“I think there might be someone at the door, Mary.” Uncle Colm said calmly.

“Got that Tranquilizer gun handy, Joe?!” Gerry panicked.

“S’no good to us against a demon ye daft prick!” Joe shouted.

“Aunt Sarah, what in God’s name have you unleashed on us?!” Erin screamed from behind Mary.

“I never knew you was that gifted, Mammy!” Orla said.

“Girls, calm down! Who is that?!” Mary called out.

“GIRLS!!!! ARE YE OK?!” Everyone shrieked at first at the figure who shot in lie a blur. But then realized it was just a panic-stricken Clare standing in the kitchen.

“Clare?” James and Marco said together.

“Ohhhhh for fuck sake!” Michelle groaned

“Well, nice to see you too!” Clare snapped.

“Clare, what ye doing here?” Erin asked. Orla made a beeline for Clare, hugging her friend.

“I wanted to make sure you was alright. The power came back on hours ago in Strabane, I’ve been trying to ring yer, but there was no answer, so I jumped on the bus and made my way here, and then as I was walking down the street, I didn’t see any lights or activity and I assumed the worst.” Clare stressed.

“Well, the power only just came back on, love.” Mary said.

“Oh…. So…. Everyone’s alright, aye?” Clare checked.

“Aye. We’re grand. We just had a wee visit from Marco’s Nanna.” Orla said.

“But she’s dead.” Clare said.

“…. Long story, Clare.” Marco sighed.

                With the crisis averted, the gang stepped outside and saw that the power had indeed been restored to Derry. Marco then offered Clare a lift back to Strabane; Orla went too and happily relayed the visit from ‘Robbie Williams’ and Marco’s Nanna to Clare. The wee lesbian assured Michelle that Robbie Williams had NOT died. But she was even more intrigued by the ‘visit’ from Mrs Galluci. As Clare said goodbye to the gang. Erin was as dismissive as always.

“Chirst, she’s gonna have a cack attack about all that crap before she gets back to Strabane.” Erin chuckled.

“What? Why?” Michelle asked.

“Ach, Come on. Ye know Clare. All that stuff about division, and partings. She’ll start having nightmares about us all splitting up or something! What a load of balls!” Erin exclaimed.

“But….. what about Marco’s nanna? Your Aunt was right about that.” James said.

“Wise up, James. She probably just did that cos he’s had her on his mind lately or something.” Erin shrugged.

“Then how do ye explain getting his middle name right?” Michelle shot.

“I dunno…. Lucky guess? Or maybe she found out herself? Who knows? But it’s all crap! Anyway, I better get in. See yous tomorrow.” Erin kissed James good night before going back inside. Michelle huffed with frustration.

“What?” James asked.

“God, she can be so arrogant sometimes! Like her opinion is the only one that matters!” Michelle scoffed.

“Yeah….. That is true.” James admitted. "Do you reckon we should.... say something?" He asked.

“Ach fuck it! Come on. Let’s get home.” Michelle lead the way.

Chapter Text

The ramifications of the power cut began to creak through in the days following. The first issue came for The Quinn/ McCool family when Cousin Eammon turned up with news that his roof had fallen in. Amid the discussion of how such a thing could have occurred; Jim across the road, and Declan both quickly vetoed the idea of putting cousin Eammon up for a while. Declan did not have very fond memories of Aunt Bridie when it came to her narrow-minded opinions about ‘his kind’, while Jim had a simpler explanation. He had Marco staying with him and simply didn’t have the room. Mary and Gerry were then left with no other choice but to let the awkward, timid cousin stay with them for a while.

“I won’t lie to ya, Mary. I feel very grateful for you to put me up for a wee while.” Eammon said thankfully.

Mary didn’t have much time to digest the implications, she was facing another crisis when she discovered that the date she wanted to book for the girl’s 18th birthday party was already taken, and in a desperate attempt to have the parish hall booked in one capacity or another, she was only able to get a booking on the Saturday before the Good Friday agreement vote. This would also come with a slight compromise.

The Quinn matriarch pondered how she was going to break the news to her daughter and niece that they were going to be sharing their 18th birthday party with a first communion party in the same venue. But instead, she decided to simply keep it quiet for as long as possible. Using their A-level revision schedule as an excuse. Meanwhile, Erin and Orla agreed they would discuss the party’s theme once they had a moment to spare from revision.

So, the date was set for Saturday May 16th.

However, Erin’s elaborate idea of having a birthday party on par with the town’s New Year’s Eve celebrations were quickly halted when Mary informed her that there no funds of that magnitude available.

“Typical! Always trying to stump my aspirations! Well, I guess I’ll just have to use my creativity in some other way!” Erin thought to herself.

But Erin and the gang had not been so lucky with another issue. Following the power cut, they attempted to call Freeman’s catalogue repeatedly to order Orla’s 18^th birthday present, a Chocolate fountain. But as time drew closer to her birthday. Right up to the end of April. The freeman’s catalogue staff had been informing them that the Chocolate fountain was out of stock. But now, they’d been told the chocolate fountain had now been discontinued. Which put them a real dilemma.

Things became more convoluted when following the FA Cup semi-finals, where Arsenal beat Wolverhampton Wanderers to reach the final….. Marco’s Dad rang to let him know that he managed to get tickets for the FA cup final. They decided that if he was to get tickets, Marco would spend a week with Tony before the match. But Marco’s initial excitement quickly gave way to disbelief when he remembered that the date for the final was also on Saturday, May 16th. The same day as the party. Marco simply couldn’t believe it. The chance to spend time with his Dad and to see Arsenal in the FA cup final at Wembley Stadium, something he’d dreamt of since he was little, was now met with an unbelievable dilemma.

Marco grew more and more nervous as he worked that day. He had been granted the time off from his apprenticeship, which was coming close to completion. Yet, the Saucier chef, Noah, who he worked under that day noticed that he was severely distracted. So much that he scolded his hand while cooking a cheese sauce. Whilst nursing the burn on his break; not even Clare’s visit to the restaurant could brighten his spirits. Especially when he explained his dilemma to her. That wasn’t all…. Marco had also noticed that he seemed to struggle reading things. This ‘difficulty’ had been occurring sporadically since he saved Michelle and Orla from Hectar at the Belfast University bar, but now he was noticing it more, especially when he drove. He hadn’t mentioned it to anyone, not even Orla.

His mind was conflicted over what he should do. The thought of hurting Orla terrified him, but he was equally worried about letting his Dad down. It was their love of football and Arsenal that bonded them as Father and Son. It was like he was being pulled by a magnet on two sides. But which side should he go to? He made a point to pop into the Quinn house when he got back from Strabane. The group had now begun their final A-level exams, and it wasn’t unusual now to not see Orla waiting at the window for him. Retrieving Coco Pops from Jim’s house. Marco sauntered slowly inside.

“That you, Marco love?” Mary called out.

“Yeah! it’s me, Mrs Quinn.” Marco called back.

“They’re upstairs!” Mary called.

Marco heard the faint sound of squabbling coming from Erin’s room; distinctly between James and Michelle, which wasn’t unusual. He could hear the muffled sounds of desperation and conflict as he opened Erin’s bedroom door. Marco froze to see Erin and Orla holding James down in a chair while Michelle stood over him. There was some type of white cream smeared across James’ face. The squabbling stopped when they turned to see Marco staring curiously at them all.

“Ok…….  What’s going on ‘ere?” Marco asked.

“It’s not what it looks like.” James insisted.

“Oh good……. What’s it meant to look like?” Marco asked.

“Just shut up and stay still, dickface!” Michelle continued applying the cream to James’ face.

“Michelle, why put this stuff on MY face?” James moaned, still struggling.

“Ach. What ye moaning about? It’s just a pore cleansing cream.” Erin insisted.

“Aye.  It’s a new line from Avon and I need to test it out.” Michelle explained.

“So why not test it on yourself?” James moaned.

“Uh… two reasons. One, I don’t have greasy English skin like yours….. Two, if ya face breaks out in a rash, I’ll know it’s no good and send it back.” Michelle answered.

“Very simple plan, James.” Orla added.

“Wh- What if my face does break out in a rash?!” James asked in a panic.

“S’alright James. No one will notice.” Marco quipped.

“And you can shut ya hole as well!” Michelle snapped at Marco.

Erin and Orla finally released James from their grip. The three girls then walked out of the room. Walking straight past Marco without even looking at him. Not even Orla would look at him. The two lads were left by themselves. While Marco taken aback by the silent treatment. He then turned to look at James’ face. As he sat on the edge of the bed, James could see the slightly amused look on Marco’s face. He knew there was going to be some sort of witty comment. He sighed and waited.

“All right, let’s hear it.” James resigned.

“I don’t know what it is….. but I’ve suddenly got a hankering for a Big Mac.” Marco shot, smiling.

“And why’s that?” James asked, rolling his eyes.

“Well, let’s be fair, James.….  you do look like Ronald McDonald’s little boy.” Marco pointed to the mirror on Erin’s dressing table. James looked at his reflection and couldn’t help but chuckle at Marco’s comment. He had to admit he had a point.

“So….. what’s with the girls?” Marco asked awkwardly.

“Really? You’re asking that?” James asked sincerely.

“Well…. Yeah!” Marco answered.

“All I can say is…… you’re braving it coming here.” James said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Marco asked, now more confused.

“…..They know.” James said.

“Know?….. Oh my God…. They know?!” Marco groaned.

“Oh yeah….. And they ain’t best pleased about it.” James warned him.

Marco felt his stomach sink. “Oh God….  Wh…. How did they find out?”

“That’s none of your business! Let’s just say a wee birdie told us.” Erin snarled, now standing in the doorway with Michelle with matching scowls on their faces.

“I thought it was Clare who told us, Erin.” Orla called from the hallway.

“Shut up Orla!” Erin snapped.

Marco sighed heavily…. Clare told them. He thought. He then remembered the fact about Derry…... ‘Everyone knows everything about everybody’…. Even though Clare had moved, she was still a Derry Girl.

“Look, girls. Can I talk to Orla about this?” Marco asked worryingly, he got up to move but Michelle shoved back down onto the bed.

“Oh aye! You can talk to her. You’re gonna sit right there and explain to Orla how you’re gonna scoot off to England!” Michelle snapped, pointing her finger at him.

“She is absolutely crushed, so she is!” Erin chimed in.

“She was quiet all day, mate. She didn’t even wanna play Rock Paper Scissors with me.” James admitted.

“Don’t you get involved in this, James! This is on HIS head!”  Michelle snapped.

“I never thought you would be so selfish, Marco!” Erin proclaimed dramatically.

“But….. I haven’t…. I mean…… I was going to…… James, come on. Help us out here mate please?!” Marco pleaded, unsure of how to handle the situation.

“Stay out of this, James!” Erin warned him.

“I’m sorry, mate. I’ve been told I can’t get involved.” James shrugged.

“Look, it’s not like I planned for the FA cup final to fall on the same day as the party, is it? But…” Marco protested, but Erin cut him off.

“That’s not the point, Marco! You’re still going, aren’t ya? Right, ye sit there. Cos Orla’s got something to say to ya!” Erin snarled.

“That’s going a bit too hard, isn’t it, girls?” James asked timidly.

“Shut up Dicko!” Michelle snapped.

Marco sat on the edge of the bed. He saw Orla walk into the room. Her expression was blank as she took the few steps forward and stood over him. Marco felt his Adam’s apple crawl higher up his throat than it ever did before as he went to speak. But the words got caught in his throat as he took in Orla’s blank expression.

“…. Orla…. I….”

“No! You listen here!” Orla cut him off. Marco stopped and listened.

“I’ve got just one thing to tell ya…..” Marco was taken aback by Orla’s ominous tone.

She poked his chest, speaking with a warning tone. “If you go to England to see that game……”

Marco felt his heartbeat rapidly; his mind began to swirl.…… was she about to give him an ultimatum?..... would he have to choose between spending time with his Dad or go to her party?..... would she be that selfish and do such a thing?... Something didn’t seem right.

Orla’s stare was intense. But then, she tilted her head and smiled. “…. When ye come back, can ya bring me one of those king size Toblerone’s they sell at the airport.” She asked excitedly.

Marco furrowed his eyes in confusion. “…..What?!” He asked.

Marco then heard sniggering. He turned to see Erin and Michelle hiding their faces. He then glanced at Orla, who shot him a goofy grin. He turned to see James turn his face away to hide his giggles. Coco Pops’ playful barking broke the tension. Marco scrunched his face with embarrassment as he realized this was nothing more than a windup. A prank. A trick. A joke.

“Jesus Christ! That is NOT funny girls!” Marco groaned in protest as they all cracked. “You…… Oh for the love of God!” Marco groaned a mixture of annoyance and relief as he hunched over.

“Ach, dry ya eyes, ya great dose! Only havin’ a wee craic!” Michelle laughed.

“We got ya good that time! Didn’t we, aye?” Orla giggled as she jumped onto the bed behind Marco, wrapping her arms and legs round him. Coco Pops barked happily as he jumped into Marco’s lap.

“You…. Oh…. Guess you were forced against your will, right?” Marco pointed at James.

“Absolutely.” James insisted through his chuckles.

“Vaffanculo!” Marco chuckled.

“Ye alright there, Marco?” Erin asked. Rubbing his shoulder. Having a sense of sympathy for him now.

“I’ve been proper shitting myself above this all day!” Marco moaned. Orla’s face contorted awkwardly as she started to move away from him.

“Wise up, Orla. He doesn’t mean that literally.” Erin tutted.

“Wouldn’t surprise me.” Michelle quipped.

Orla sighed with relief as she cradled Marco again. “Ye haven’t spoken to our Granda, have ye?” She asked.

“No. Not since this morning. Why?” Marco answered.

“OOOH! Can I tell him?” Orla cried excitedly.

“Tell me what?” Marco groaned.

“Well, we came home during lunch hour, and your Da was on the phone with Granda, and he said to tell ya he’s sorted your flight tickets out. He’s booked you a wee flight back to Derry after the game finishes! So ya should be back in time for the party!” Orla exclaimed, shaking with excitement.

It took a moment for Marco to digest the news. The stress and worry of the day lifted off him like a heavy barbell as he slumped backwards into Orla’s embrace. But then a thought came to mind.

“But what if the game goes into extra time?” Marco asked.

“Well, I’m sure they’ll hold the plane for ya.” Orla shrugged.

“They don’t hold planes for people, Orla!” Erin huffed.

“Do they not?” Orla frowned.

“What’s the matter? You reckon Arsenal can’t beat Newcastle in regular time? I mean to be fair; your lot had to play Crystal Palace in a replay.” James teased.

“Who’s side are you on, dickhead?” Michelle snapped.

“Wha…. I was only having a laugh.” James insisted.

“That was really hurtful, James! Inconsiderate English Prick!” Michelle huffed.

“Yeah, that is soooo out of order, James.” Orla shook her head with disappointment.

James shook his head and sighed with defeat. “Wha… you lot just….. I give up.”

“Seriously, you two?” Erin groaned. At that moment, the phone rang.

After a short pause, Mary called up. “Erin!!!! Clare’s on the phone!!!!”

Erin moved towards her dressing table and put the phone on loudspeaker. “Hiya Clare.” They all called.

“How goes it Clare? Ya lookin well.” Orla called.

“Hiya, girls. Did ya speak to Marco about his wee predicament?”

“Oh yeah. We had a wee chat.” Michelle smirked.

“…. I’m not sure I trust that tone, Michelle. What did you say to him?” Clare snapped.

“They tortured me, Clare! They got me thinking Orla was proper pissed off at me!” Marco called.

“Honestly, girls! He was proper broke over it when I saw him earlier!” Clare moaned.

“Ach, it’s only a joke for fuck’s sake.” Michelle complained.

“How’d your first exam go, Clare?” James asked, changing the subject.

“Hi James. Not bad I guess. I mean it’s only the one exam down, but that’s the least of my troubles.”

“That’s an understatement.” Michelle shot.

“What happened?” Erin asked.

“Bunch of first year shites changed the direction instructions to get to the exam rooms! That’s what happened! I was walking round the place like a headless chicken…..” Clare moaned.

While the gang listened to Clare talk about her school exam escapade, Marco warmed at the feel of Orla’s embrace. The conversation drowned out as they spoke. Orla rubbed his chest with affection.

“Were ya…. really cacking yourself about telling me?” Orla asked.

“Course I was. I couldn’t think about anything else all day. More I thought about it…. the more I was worried about upsetting you. It made me not want to go.” Marco sighed heavily, catching Orla’s frown.

Orla stroked her fingertips across the bristled sides of Marco’s hair and gave him a hug. “Awwww….. I’m sorry. Ya know for a tough fella, ya a big softie, ye know that?….. but seriously, I’m buzzing for ya.” She said.

“But…”

Orla quickly interjected. “No….. I mean it. I mean….. I’ll miss ya lots cos you’re goin’ for a week, and I’m gonna miss having our wee cuddles….. But I would naaaaver stop ye from spending time with your Da. Aaaaand…… you deserve this, Marco….. you’ve worked sooooo hard and you’ve wanted to go to this since you were wee. Ye said so yourself. And I want ye to have your Take That moment…. Like we did.”

Marco huffed out a breath, gazing at Orla lovingly. “As if I didn’t love you enough already.”

Orla hummed contently as she hugged him. “I love ya too…… But…. I have to say I am just a wee bit pissed off with ya.”

Marco furrowed his eyes with confusion again. “Alright…. What did I do?” He sighed.

Orla met his gaze. “Well, it’s not something you’ve done, it something ya haven’t done.” She answered.

“Ok… What didn’t I do?” Marco queried.

“Ye haven’t gone and got ya eyes tested. Ye heard what ya Nanna said. My mammy was very specific. Right now. Your Nanna’s looking at ye, wondering why ye haven’t gone yet.” Orla spoke insistently.

“….. That’s what you’re annoyed about?” Marco asked.

“Does that surprise ye?” Erin scoffed. They turned to see the group was now looking at them.

“Sounds like a pretty sound reason to me, Marco.” Clare said down the line.

Marco huffed. “Orla, honestly, there’s nothing wrong my eyes. They’re fine.”

“Well, how do ye explain this?” Orla held his bandaged hand up.

 “Might have overdone it a wee bit.” Michelle made a hand gesture.

“Stop that, Michelle! I might not be there, but I know what you’re doing!” Clare cried down the line.

“Alright, so I wasn’t looking at what was doing. I WAS a bit distracted with all this, you know?” Marco protested.

“…. You also nearly hit that car the other night, mate.” James spoke up admittedly.

“The streetlights were off!” Marco complained feebly.

“Marco….. please? Please say you’ll get them checked…. Your eyes are really cracker…… and I simply will not risk anything happening to them…… please Care Bear?” Orla frowned a pleading look at him.

“Aye, gone Care Bear.” Erin teased playfully. Marco rolled his eyes at her teasing. He turned to Orla and melted at the sight of her large hazel eyes.

“….. Alright. I get them checked before I go. Ok?” He agreed. As Orla gripped him tightly in a hug, the gang smiled happily as the two best friends shared a loving moment.

“That is sooo beautiful.” Clare cooed down the line. “Right, must dash, girls. Laurie’s on her way over. I’ll ask if she’s free for ya party, Erin.”

“Aye ok. See ya Clare.” Erin said, ending the call.

James leant forward and patted Marco’s knee. “Oi, you can relax now, mate! Ya going to WEMBLEY ya lucky bastard!” He exclaimed.

Marco finally allowed himself to enjoy that one fact. “I’m going to Wembley….. I’m going to fucking Wembley! And we’re gonna smash those Geordies an’ all!” He exclaimed, smiling.

Orla then queried something. “I do have one question…. Why would the English name a football stadium after a character in Fraggle Rock?”

“Kinda fits, doesn’t it, aye? England’s stadium named after a muppet!” Michelle snorted as James and Marco shot her an unimpressed look.

“Mind you, Newcastle has some pretty cracker stuff too. I hear they deep fry mars bars over there…..” Orla whispered in awe.

“Yeah…. That’s…. grand. Plus, they gave us Byker Grove.” Erin added.

“Not gonna lie…. Newcastle Brown Ale is pretty cracker. Granted, it’s not in the same league as Guinness, but they’re trying.” Michelle shrugged.

“And they gave us Paul Gascoigne and Alan Shearer.” James mentioned, which Marco conceded to.

“You wanking over them too?” Michelle shot.

“And they gave us The Beatles and Oasis!” Orla said excitedly.

“The Beatles came from Liverpool, and Oasis come from Manchester, Orla.” Erin huffed, rolling her eyes in despair as the group continued the conversation.

Marco found himself sitting inside the Opticians in town the following Saturday. Sarah and Orla went along for moral support. The Optician, whose name was Jemima, was a friend of Sarah’s. She had long curly ginger hair and wore large multicoloured spectacles, which Orla regarded with approval.  Jemima asked Marco a series of questions before taking him into the inspection room.

Marco felt slightly apprehensive when Jemima glanced suspiciously at him when he mentioned the sporadic headaches and the blurry vision he had when driving at night. She also noticed Marco’s straining when he read the smaller line of letters on the display cards when held at a distance before carrying out an examination with the fundoscope; After a short wait, Jemima summoned them into her office. Orla held Marco’s hand as they listened.

“Ok…. Marco. Thank you for waiting …. After doing all the tests, I must inform you that I’m seeing clear signs of Astigmatism in your vision.” She said.

“…..Wh-What’s that?” Marco asked.

“Are ye gonna need to take his eyes out?” Orla asked worryingly.

“Is he gonna go blind?” Sarah asked.

Jemima quickly put their fears to rest. “……. No. Thankfully. It appears to be mild….. But ye will have to keep an eye on it!” She shot a mental expression, cackling at her own joke.

“Ohhhh I get that!” Sarah laughed. Orla threw her head back and giggled at Jemima’s ‘joke’ while Marco sat awkwardly between them.

Jemima snorted through her nose before she regained her composure. “Right…. Well…. Astigmatism is a condition when the lens of the eye is irregularly shaped. It’s mostly on your left eye, which explains why you’re getting those headaches you mentioned, and why ye struggle to drive at night…..Now I understand your concern, but it’s nothing to worry about. Astigmatism is quite common in this field. Sometimes it can develop over time, others have it from birth. It can also be inherited.”

“Ohhhhh….. Do ye think Marco might have got it from his birth father and not his Da?” Sarah asked.

Jemima spotted the awkwardness of the situation. “….. Well, possibly. But in some cases, it can happen after suffering an injury. Some kind of trauma… Like a black eye, or a bump on the head. Have you ever taken part in any sports like boxing, or rugby, or have ye had a wee scuffle where ye took a hard hit to the head?” She asked.

“Aye. He’s done all those to be fair.” Orla admitted.

“Orla!” Marco moaned.

“Well, I’m sorry Marco. But ye have to tell the truth in these cases.” Orla explained.

“Is he gonna need surgery?” Sarah asked.

“If ye have to remove one of his eyes, can ye put it in a wee jar for me?” Orla asked.

“Ach, unfortunately no….. They don’t let us do that no more.” Jemima said.

Ach, desperate.” Orla frowned.

“What does she mean, No more?” Marco thought.

Jemima quickly moved on. “Thankfully he doesn’t need surgery at this point. He just needs to wear glasses.”

“Glasses?!.... Oh my God. Michelle’s gonna luuuuuv this!” Marco groaned.

“Ach, Marco. Don’t be so dramatic, son. There’s nothing wrong with wearing glasses.” Sarah tutted.

“I reckon glasses would really suit ya.” Orla nodded.

“Orla’s right. Glasses are proper trendy these days among celebrities, Marco. Proper trend setters so they are. There’s that wee singer with the ginger wig, Elton John, and John Lennon….. sure, even when he got himself shot he would have sported a classy pair of glasses, I think glasses might add a wee bit distinction to yourself.” Sarah explained.

Jemima chimed in. “I would go with what they’re saying. I mean if you’re a wee bit shy about wearing glasses, there’s always contact lenses. But given your job as a chef, I would advise wearing glasses, I mean, it’s never a grand thing to have a contact lens fall out and go into someone’s dinner, is it now?” She chuckled nevously.

“She’s such a character!” Orla chuckled happily.

“Orla, why don’t ye take Marco out and help him pick a frame? I’m gonna have a wee chat with Jemima.” Sarah suggested. Orla lead Marco out the consultation room. “Now…. Won’t the glasses mist up when he’s working in the kitchen, or do they come with wee windscreen wipers for the lenses? Sarah asked, Jemima sat and pondered the question.

Orla and Marco sauntered around the Opticians. Her cheerful approach made him smile as they inspected the different frames. Orla likened it to being at the beach shop at Portrush where she would always go through the different types of hats and sunglasses on sale. Making sure she tried all of them before Erin would yank her out of the shop. Marco chuckled as he remembered that Orla had an entire drawer full of just sunglasses in her bedroom.

While there were no star shaped frames, much to Orla’s annoyance, there was a simple black frame that seemed to look right on Marco. Orla slid them back and forth onto his face. A look of curiosity came across her as took a step back from him. She gazed intently as Marco turned to look at himself in the small mirror. He seemed impressed with them.

“Hmmm…. Not bad. Do you think I look a bit like Christopher Reeve in these?” Marco joked.

“Aye…….” Orla stretched. Marco turned to see Orla staring at him with wide eyes. Her mouth was gawping, and her breathing was slightly ragged.

 “….. You alright Orla?” Marco asked. He suddenly felt self-conscious. He moved to take the glasses off.

“No!……. Don’t take them off…… Just…… keep them on a minute…..” Orla felt a familiar flutter in her stomach, a tension started building in her chest. Her fingers tingled as she gazed at him. He looked different, in a very good way. “Oh my God!..... Let me just…..” Orla stuttered, struggling to catch her breath.

“What? What’s wrong?” Marco was then startled as Orla suddenly lunged in and kissed him vigorously. An excitable yelp escaped her as their lips met.

Marco was taken aback but quickly mirrored her firm claim on his lips. They wrapped their arms around each other. The vigorous kiss continued to build. Tasting the subtle hint of sugar, undoubtedly coming from one of Orla’s sweets. When they finally managed to break away from each other. They held each other they caught their breaths in the middle of the opticians.

“Can I just say….. you look absolutely cracker in those!!!!” Orla panted excitedly as she gave him a wide pearly smile.

“Bloody hell! I think I could get used to wearing these after all.” Marco chuckled, catching his breath.

“Aye…. Very much so!” Orla squeaked happily as she lunged in for another kiss.

As their lips met again. The bell above the entrance door jingled, signalling someone had walked into the opticians.

“ORLA McCOOL!! MR. GALLUCI! WOULD YOU KINDLY REMOVE YOURSELVES FROM EACH OTHER!” They jumped to see Sister Michael standing in the opticians.

“Ach, afternoon Sister Michael. You’re looking well.” Orla said, unabashed.

“Sorry, Sister.” Marco said, wiping the surgery remnants from his lips. “We were just….”

“I could see what you were doing! I’m not blind!” Sister Michael stressed.

“We were just picking a frame for Marco’s new glasses. He’s got a busted eye.” Orla spoke up.

“Well, you won’t have much luck searching in his mouth, Orla!” Sister Michael snapped.

Orla sniggered. “Course not, Sister. Ye put glasses on ya face, not ya mouth.”

Sister Michael rolled her eyes as Jemima then came out from the consultation room followed quickly by Sarah.

“Ach. Sister Michael. Here to pick up your sunglasses?” Jemima asked. Handing her a case.

“Indeed.” The nun answered. Placing the relective sunglasses on her face she turned to look at herself in the mirror.

“Ach, sister, ye look grand in those.” Sarah regarded.

 Sister Michael turned to meet her gaze. “….. Yes, I know. Good day. And you, Mr Galluci, I trust I’ll be seeing you later?” The Nun asked.

“Yes, Sister….. I mean… Yes, Sensei.” Marco replied. Orla furrowed her eyes as Sister Michael about turned and left the opticians.

“Sensei? That’s not Italian for Sister!” Orla asked.

“Oooooh…. Marco, that frame looks really class on ye! Doesn’t it now, Orla?” Sarah then said, seeing the pair of glasses he was wearing.

“Aye, mammy. Very much so.” Orla smiled, gazing dreamily at Marco.

Marco nodded as he handed the frame over to Jemima. “I…. Think I’ll choose these ones.” He said.

“Grand choice. They should be ready in a week or so.” Jemima smiled.

After Sarah waved them off to go back to the salon; Orla and Marco walked hand in hand up the high street to go and meet Erin, Michelle and James at the café. They walked into the café and looked around for the others.

“Muthafukkaaaaas!” Michelle called out from their table.

“Alright you two?” James smiled as they walked up.

“Hey, what’s up?” Marco clasped his hand.

Orla ruffled the wee English fella’s hair before sitting down. “Alright James?….. Ooooooh! Wait a minute! Just wanna take a wee look at something. Get us a coke and a cream horn!” Orla hurried quickly out of the café before they could speak.

“Where she going?” James asked.

“I know where she’s going….. I saw her in a shop just up the road the other day. She saw this monkey onesie and was dancing round with it. Oi, that’s a present idea for ye to get her.” Michelle said to Marco.

“Hmmmm, ok. I’ll take a look at that.” Marco nodded.

“Well that’s just typical, isn’t it!” Erin groaned.

“Why? What’s your bother?” Michelle asked.

“I’m at my wits end, so I am, Michelle! I mean…. I was hoping to sit Orla down so we could start talking bout the party theme, but she’s fecked off! Seriously, what with this chocolate fountain malarkey, it’s proper melting my brain!” Erin stressed.

“It’s alright Erin, calm down. You’ll get it sorted. What theme have you got in mind?” James enquired.

Erin’s words got caught in her throat. “….. Well, to be fair, I haven’t actually pinpointed the exact theme at this specific moment in time, but I’m working on it.”

“In other words, ye don’t have a baldies!” Michelle stated.

Erin went to fire back. “Well, if Orla stayed still for five fecking minutes…. I’d-“

“Can I….. get you guys anything?” A voice said. Breaking Erin’s thread.

Erin snapped her head round. “Do ya mind we’re having a conversation… here.” She stopped.

They turned to see that their waitress was none other than Shannon O’Driscoll. The blonde was dressed in a white T-shirt, blue jeans, and wearing a black apron. The former adversary to the girls stood there with a soft smile on her face with her hair, tied back, holding a pad and pen. There was a collective startle amongst the group.

“Oh, you alright Shannon?” Marco asked politely.

“Aye, I’m gand thanks. So, Can I get you guys anything?” Shannon asked again.

“You work here, Shannon?” Erin asked, scrunching her face.

“Aye. About a month or so now. Just started my shift.” Shannon said cheerfully.

“Oh, that’s great, Shannon. How you finding it?” James asked.

“Aye, it’s pretty sound. Just weekends. Oh, just wanna say first…. If ye want coffee…. I’m still learning to use the machine, so bear with me on that.” Shannon confessed. Erin scoffed and rolled her eyes.

“Which ones can you make?” Michelle queried, ignoring Erin.

“Lattes. They’re dead easy.” Shannon answered.

“Yeah, that sounds good, Shannon. We’ll have a round of lattes, right?” Michelle said.

“Yeah, go then.” Both James and Marco agreed.

“I’ll just have a coke. Don’t wanna make it too difficult for ye.” Erin shrugged with a tint of arrogance in her voice.

“Ok…. Oh, and a coke and a cream horn, aye?…. I heard Orla before she darted out.” Shannon added, smiling at Marco.

“Yeah, coke and a cream horn too.  Thanks, Shannon.” Marco answered, smiling back.

Shannon made a quick note in her pad. “Did I hear you guys say something about a chocolate fountain?” She asked.

“What is this, an interrogation? We’re thirsty here, Shannon!” Erin snapped.

“Oh, right. Sorry.” Shannon frowned and made a hasty exit. The group turned to look at Erin.

“What?” Erin asked them.

“Seriously, Erin. What’s crawled up your hole today?” Michelle asked.

“Oh what? Did you forget how she treated Orla before? Erin asked

“Yeah, I remember. But Orla’s sound with her now.” Michelle replied.

“And what about that wee look she was giving Marco just now?” Erin asked.

“There was no look. She was just being nice.” Marco insisted, puzzled.

“Yeah, ye might wanna go back and get your eyes checked again Marco. Orla might be sound with her, but after all that business with Shannon’s Da, and Mrs Sadhbh….. as far as I’m concerned, people who inflict suffering on others don’t deserve the time of day.” Erin shot.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Michelle asked.

“Speaking of which, how’d you get on at the optician?” James spoke up, attempting to shift the conversation.

“Well, apart from the fact that the Optician was mental…. She said I had some sort of condition, I can’t remember how you say it though.” Marco said.

“Too long a word?” Michelle asked.

“I think it was….. A-sting-matay-ous?” Marco pronounced. The group silently mouthed the word.

“Sounds like a Spanish football player.” James quipped.

“….. anyway…. I gotta wear glasses when I drive and whenever I struggle to see anything.” Marco told them.

“Glasses? Really?” Erin asked with intrigue.

“Have ye got them on ya now?” Michelle smirked.

“No….. well, I do have a temporary pair.” Marco confessed.

“Ach, gone! Put ‘em on for us!” Erin urged him.

“NO!” Marco groaned.

“Oh, go on ‘Co! Let see them!” James chimed in. The group continued to goad Marco until he finally caved in. He pulled out the glasses from his coat pocket and paused.

“I swear, I hear one of you laughing. I’m off!” He warned.

“Catch yourself on! We promise. We won’t laugh.” Erin promised as he slid the glasses on.

He sat there and waited some type of snide comment from one of them, his eyes set dead either Erin or Michelle. Erin lowered her head and bit her lower lip, only to have Michelle slap her on the arm.

“What ye talking about?.... They’re fine.” Michelle said, her voice cracking. “No….. I mean it. They really suit you…… I mean, if ye wanna pass yourself off as Jarvis Cocker’s son.” She snorted. Marco rolled his eyes as he went to take the glasses off.

James shook his head. “Oh, don’t listen to her. Mate, they’re fine. Got a bit of a Christoper Reeve vibe going. Plus, the first Doctor Who wore glasses.” He added.

“What? William Hartnell? But he was an auld man, James. And they weren’t even glasses. It was a monocle.” Erin pointed out.

“Yeah….. well…… ok bad example. But still, they look good on you.” James insisted.

“What does Orla think about them?” Michelle asked.

No sooner had she asked. Marco felt Orla crash down on his lap. Once again, she crashed her lips onto his. The group sat stunned, as did the entire café, while Orla displayed her approval. Erin darted around in horror at the gawping faces from everyone in the café. Feeling her cheeks burn with embarrassment.

“Jesus Christ, Orla! Control yerself!” Erin cried.

“Fuck a doodle doo!” Michelle exclaimed.

“You alright there, Marco? James asked. Sniggering at the gushy expression on his friend’s face as Orla eventually broke away from their kiss.

“I think Orla’s alright with them.” Marco stumbled over his words.

“He looks soooooo cracker in them, doesn’t he?” Orla beamed happily.

“Right, well on that note. I think we better make those lattes to go!” Erin stressed from the embarrassment.

As they gathered their things, along with their drinks. Erin spotted Shannon motion Marco over to talk to her and another woman. Waiting outside for him, Erin began speaking to Orla about deciding on a theme for their party. But Orla’s attention was clearly somewhere else. Her cousin’s voice was like a distant echo in her head as Orla stared through the café window at Marco. A dreamy wide smile spread across her face. Marco still had his glasses on. She then heard Erin’s voice come in louder.

“Orla….. Orla!..... ORLA?! Are ye listening to me?!” Erin cried.

“Huh? Wha?” Orla asked Erin, a dozy expression now donned her face.

“I was trying to talk to you about the theme idea I had for the party. Are ya fine with it?” Erin asked.

“Oh Yeah. Fine. I’m cool with it.” Orla answered.

“You…. You are? Oh…. Ok….. grand. Ye sure?” Erin checked.

“Yeah I’m grand with it.” Orla repeated.

“Ok.…… would ye sign off on it?” Erin queried.

“Oh yeah…. Fine.” Orla groaned, desperately wanting to get back to her daydream.

Erin glanced to where Orla was looking. Marco was still talking with Shannon. She narrowed her eyes with suspicion again. When Marco finally emerged from the café, Orla beamed a happy smile and held his arm.

“What was ye talking to Shannon about?” Erin asked him.

“Uh…. Orla. Can you give us a moment?” Marco asked. Orla nodded and ran off, jumping on James’ back. Marco, Michelle and Erin held back a bit. “Right…. I just solved your problem with the chocolate fountain. Shannon’s boss said she’ll sell the one she’s got to you. Come down tomorrow to pick it up.” Marco whispered.

“Are ye serious?” Erin asked.

“Ach. Nice one, Marco. You’re a legend!” Michelle exclaimed.

                Despite her reservations about Shannon, Erin couldn’t deny that she was relieved that their group present for Orla had been sorted. She even got an agreement out of Orla about the party theme. Literary Greats- She thought to herself. She started to feel at ease with herself as they walked through the town.

Chapter Text

The expression ‘time flies’ could never have been truer. It was now the day Marco was going back to England for a week. He felt a sense of excitement, but also a sense of trepidation with not being around for the lead up to Erin and Orla’s party. As he woke early that morning to get himself ready to venture across to the Quinn house. He sat and thought back on everything he had done the previous day.

The day before started with one last study session at the restaurant before his departure. He had received some ‘flak’ from the other apprentices about his new glasses, but he knew it was all just playful banter. He couldn’t deny that the rim was very similar to Chirstopher Reeves Superman glasses. However, he couldn’t deny that he wasn’t struggling as much now he had them. And the head chef/owner Mickey wished him all the best when he finished for the day.

He then thought of the first farewell he made, which was to Clare. It had become a new tradition since she’d moved to Strabane that they would meet up either at the restaurant or at a café near her new school where they could just catch up, and Marco would fill her in on any shenanigans that the other girls and James were getting up to, except things had been amazingly quiet on that front.

During their meet up that day, along with the talk about the Good Friday agreement, Clare had the misfortune of telling him that she couldn’t make the film night the group had planned later. She already made plans to have dinner with Laurie, her Mum and Laurie’s parents. Also, Laurie was not able to make Erin and Orla’s party. She had made a commitment to march at a rally for Lesbian rights, which also fell on the same day as the party. When Marco brought Claire back to her new school, she made a point of giving him a caution about his trip.

“Oi, you say hello to Laurie for me later, yeah?” Marco asked her.

Clare frowned. “I will. She said she hopes ye have a grand time.  Still sorry we can’t make tonight.”

“Ah, come on. Don’t worry about it.” Marco replied.

“WELL, Mind yourself when you’re over there, ye here?” Clare said in her panicky tone.

“Course I’ll be careful. I did used to live there, Clare….. remember?” Marco chuckled.

“I know….. But just keep yourself to yourself, and for the love of sweet suffering Jesus, don’t get into any fights or headbutt anyone again, promise?” Clare shrieked slightly.

Marco stuttered, not sure what else to say, other than. “Ok…… I promise.”

“Ok…. Bye Marco. See ya when ye get back, aye.” Clare said, giving him a hug.

“See you at the party. Fingers crossed.” Marco replied, embracing his wee friend.

The excitement about the Good Friday agreement was undeniable. Clare had effortlessly explained the concept of the vote to him, having read the entire booklet during their catchup. Marco could understand the excitement everyone was feeling. There was a sense of change throughout Derry. Which no doubt was radiating through the whole of Northern Ireland. A palpable feeling that the past was paving way to a future no one ever dreamed possible. He couldn’t help but feel the exhilaration that everyone was feeling.

However, the Good Friday agreement was also about reflecting on what had been a tumultuous time in the history of Northern Ireland. When he was back at the Mallon’s house later that day. Marco listened intently to James as he went over the complexities of events during The Troubles and the history behind it all. Finding a small parallel to his own experiences. There was an irony that Marco could relate to on the Catholic side of the conflict. Yet there was also a conflict of conscience when it came to ‘striking back’. While the idea of purposely going out and hurt someone else was not in his nature. Marco understood that sometimes, things weren’t so black and white when one felt their back was up against the wall……  Remembering his tribulations with his Mum and her on/off partner, Billy Forman.

But then, there was the subject of Niall, Michelle’s brother. The Mallon’s had come to treat Marco as if he was like family, so he was every tuned into the tragic situation that surrounded them and what Niall had been involved in and supposedly done. Deidre Mallon no longer spoke about him, something that he knew bothered Michelle immensely, as James had told him. Although Michelle would always find a way to deflect it. That brief insight to the Mallon family when he first arrived in Derry, where Deidre had comforted him during his darkest time. Marco couldn’t help but feel the upmost sympathy for Deidre and the burden she carried along with the family. His heart went out to Deidre when, despite all this, and her hardened exterior, like her daughter, she always seemed to soften towards him.

For the film night. The group chose to watch Cool Runnings and The Goonies. Marco chuckled to himself as he remembered the ‘compromise’ they needed to come to given Orla’s stern stance on Pizza not being as nice as Fionnula’s chippy. James, always the peaceful negotiator, came up with the idea that they would get Orla a large battered hot dog and 12 chicken nuggets. Marco then remembered the tag team teasing he got from Erin and Michelle when they were ordering the pizza.

“Orla not liking pizza’s not gonna be a deal breaker in your relationship. Is it now?” Erin joked.

“Haha, No. Takes more than that to get under my skin….. Just.” Marco quipped.

“Aye, It could’ve been worse….. She could have wanted Pineapple on her pizza.” Michelle teased.

“Oh, don’t start that again!” James moaned.

“You know, in Italy, that counts as blasphemy!!” Marco pointed out.

“Does it?” Orla asked, an astonished look on her face.

“Catch yourself on! He’s just havin a craic.” Erin laughed at the insinuation.

“No, I’m serious!” Marco insisted.

Michelle felt a smirk creep on her face. “Is it now?…… JAMES! Get us an extra-large Hawaiian with extra pineapple!” She cackled at Marco’s grimace.

“…… Vaffanculo!”

“Hello to you too!” Michelle shot him the middle finger.

“You’re sick, you know that?” Marco shot.

Back at Jim’s house. Before the film night started. Jim had gotten out a spare large green holdall bag for Marco to use for his journey. He sat on the bed and listened while Jim meticulously went through the features of the bag.

“Now, in case ye don’t get a chance to wash your smalls. Don’t fret, son. There’s a spare compartment on the inside seam where ye can store dirty clothes in. It acts like a sort of segregation compartment. And on the opposite side here, there’s a smaller compartment that I find particularly handy to store all your toiletries…..” Jim explained.

“Ah, that’s great, Jim. There’s not a compartment where I can stash a dog in, is there?” Marco asked. Coco Pops’ ears shot up. “Oh, I’m only joking, you tart!” Marco laughed at Coco Pops.

Jim chuckled as Coco Pops climbed up on the bed and sat between them. “Ach, don’t fret about leaving him, son. He’ll be grand. Cara’s proper excited to see him.” Jim ruffed Coco Pops head. “Right, I’ll leave yer to it, son.”

“Thanks, Jim.” Marco said.

Before he packed. Marco’s first task was to wrap Orla’s present. It was an easy task. He looked over to see Coco Pops ripping at some of the discarded wrapping paper. His small companion then started to whine. Undoubtedly, he must have sensed the inevitable parting between himself and his young master. Marco picked up Coco Pops and smiled as the dog licked his hand.

“Oh…. Don’t go all Clare on me, alright? I’m only going a week…. The others will take care of you, also, little Cara’s coming round, you like her don’t you ?….. couldn’t take you away of Anna either could I now?” He asked.

He melted at the gaze from Coco Pops’ large brown eyes. “….Oi, I’d take you….. but if I did, Orla would just worry about you….. You gotta stay here and look after James and the girls for me…. Do ya hear me, huh?”

He huffed at Coco Pops whine. “Yeah….. I’m a bit nervous….. doubt I’ll see her….. I mean….. She didn’t even ring me on my birthday, did she? Pretty much sums it up….. Anyway, not going back to see her. It’s me and Dad going to Wembley….. of course I’ll miss you, ya little plonker.”

“Ya know, talking to yourself’s the first sign that you’re mental.” Marco looked up and saw Michelle sniggering at him with her arms crossed.

“Hey. What you doing here? Where’s James?” He asked, smiling.

“Dicko’s out getting the pizza with Erin. That was half an hour ago. Sure, they just went out early to get a snogging session in.” Michelle answered, sitting next to him.

“Well, that’s a mental image I could without….. You….. Ok?” Marco asked. Noticing Michelle’s appearance was a bit down.

“Aye, I’m grand. Just stuff on my mind. That’s all. Where’s Orla?” Michelle asked.

Marco looked at her quizzically. “She’s getting changed across the road….. Something wrong?”

“…… Just…… thinking bout things.” Michelle shrugged, her eyes wereon the floor.

“…… Wanna talk about it?” Marco asked.

Michelle shook her head and brushed it off. “Nah! Ye don’t wanna hear me moaning before ye head off tomorrow. Don’t get into any fucking bother over there, ye hear?”

“Yeah. Already promised Clare.” Marco smiled.

“Grand… But seriously. Mind yourself when you’re there, aye?” Michelle’s breath hitched. She leant over and warmly shoulder barged his arm. “Come on. Let’s shift.”

“Yeah. Ok.” Marco got up from the bed, he was then met with a subtle hug from Michelle. He put his arm around her. “Heeeey….. What’s the matter?.... You can tell me.” Marco insisted.

“Just….. don’t ask, aye?” Michelle resigned to just the hug.

“Ok.” Marco couldn’t help but feel worried for her as he hugged her.

After they finished the film night. Orla gave them all a demonstration of her dancing routine she’d been practising with Declan and the rest of the class. The faint sound of Rhythm Nation could be heard pulsating from her headphones. Seeing her smile so jubilantly in her element, knowing how much she’d been practising warmed Marco’s heart, it also reminded him of how much he’d miss her come tomorrow.

As Marco concluded the day’s previous events in his mind. He walked across the road to the Quinn house with Orla’s present. Joe, also the early riser let him in.

“Morning, son. Coffee.” Joe said.

“Oooh Yea ple….. You mean for you, right?” He then asked knowingly.

“Ach. Grand, Thanks. I take two sugars.” Joe said cheerfully. Marco chuckled as Joe moved to sit in his chair. He made them both a coffee as they waited for the house wake up. The elder McCool smiled proudly at the lad as they spoke quietly about his upcoming trip. There was then a strange clanging noise coming from upstairs.

“What’s that?” Marco asked.

“Eammon trying to unclog the toilet….. That fecking wet lettuce.” Joe answered.

“I can’t believe you’re actually allowing that imbecile to try and unclog the toilet, Mary!” Gerry sad as they came down the stairs.

“Well, he said he did it, Gerry. So, unless ye wanna go up there and do it yourself, let him carry on.” Mary answered.

Anna raced into the living room towards Granda Joe. Erin and Orla could be heard making rousing noises as they came downstairs. They walked into the kitchen without noticing Marco was sitting in the living room.

“Daddy, why’s the bathroom locked? I’m desperate to go!” Erin groaned.

“Eammon’s unclogging it.” Gerry scoffed.

“Urgh! Boke!” Erin groaned.

“If yer desperate for a wee, Erin. Ye can always go in the back garden. Coco Pops seems to do alright.” Orla suggested.

“I hardly think that would be appropriate, Orla!” Mary cried.

“That’s cos he’s a dog, Orla! And there’s no way I’m going out to the back garden baring my arse to the whole of….. Morning, Marco.” Erin’s face turned red, seeing him sitting on the sofa. Orla yelped happily and joined him.

“Just go next door and use yer Aunt Sarah’s bathroom, Erin.” Mary suggested. Erin’s face contorted with desperation as she ran towards the front door. Marco sniggered as Orla sat next to him, embracing him.

“Do ye want some breakfast before ye head off, son? Bacon sandwich or something?” Mary called from the kitchen counter.

“Yeah, please Mary.” Marco called.

“Morning Loves.” Sarah chimed as she walked past the sitting couple.

“Morning, Mammy.” Orla smiled.

“Morning, Sarah.” Marco echoed.

“Why is Erin using my bathroom, Mary? She practically mowed me over on my way here.” Sarah asked, walking into the kitchen.

“Eammon’s clogged our toilet.” Gerry moaned.

“Ooooh. Hope he hasn’t clogged mine.” Sarah said worryingly.

“Has he actually used your toilet, Sarah?” Gerry asked.

“No chance. I wouldn’t let that train wreck change a fecking light bulb in my house!” Sarah answered.

“Well, chances are he hasn’t.” Gerry stressed.

“Mind the way you speak to her!” Joe snapped.

“For the love of God!” Mary stressed with a whisper.

                Sitting away from the usual spew amongst the family. Orla nuzzled herself into Marco on the sofa. Children’s BBC was on the TV so Anna was distracted. It was only a few hours before Marco would be heading off to England.

“You OK?” Marco whispered.

“Yeah…. Just…. Getting as much of you as I can.” Orla sighed, her eyes were closed as she breathed in his scent.

“Me too…. What’s your day look like today?” He asked.

“Well. I got and exam…. revision….. Couple of lessons…. Ooooooh! I’m gonna go get my voting card today!” Orla beamed happily.

“Ah cool…. That’s the second thing you’re getting today.” Marco teased.

“Why? What else am I getting?” Orla asked, her eyes grew wide with anticipation.

“Look down the side of the sofa.” Marco sniggered. Orla shot her head over the sofa arm. She gasped as she pulled up a present.

“Oh my God! What is it?” Orla asked, shaking with excitement.

“A mouth organ.” Marco said flatly.

Orla scrunched her face but then started to grin. “Ach….. You’re being sarcastic again aren’t ye?” She giggled.

Marco shuffled his shoulders. “….. A bit….. Go on, open it….. This is just a little something from me.” He said. Orla eagerly dove in and ripped the wrapping paper. She gawped; she couldn’t inhale anymore if she tried. Her voice went croaky as she lifted up a new monkey onesie.

“It’s the one I saw in the shop! How did ye know?!” She cried, hugging Marco tightly.

“Michelle told me….. You like it then?” Marco asked knowingly.

“I….. LOVE IT! IT IS SOOOO CLASS!.... Awwwww…. Thank you.” Orla felt giddy as she smiled.

“Ach. Surprisingly, that suits you, Orla.” Erin huffed with amusement. Joining them on the sofa.

“Ach. Feel much better now, Erin?” Orla asked.

“…..Aye! Thanks for asking!” Erin scoffed with embarrassment.

“Alright, what’s up with you?” Marco sighed, chuckling.

“Ach, nothing. Only Declan told Orla he can’t make the party.” Erin groaned.

“He’s got some sort of meeting with a dance contest. He said if he sort it, me and the class have to go and audition!” Orla said excitedly.

“Yeah, well I just wish he could have waited till afterwards. It’s like everyone’s bailing on us…. You’re going to England, Laurie’s on a march, and Declan’s got this meeting. Not to mention exams and the vote coming up….” Erin stressed dramatically.

“OK, calm down ‘Clare’.” Marco joked, earning a glare from Erin. “Maybe this’ll cheer you up…. Orla, pass us the other present down there.” He asked.

“Ooooooh!” Orla chirped. She leant over the sofa arm and brought up another present.

Marco handed it to Erin. “James said you’d like this. Didn’t wanna leave you out.” He said.

“Awwww. You didn’t have to.” Erin melted, she quickly s opened it. Her eyes lit up when she saw what it was.

“Oh, my God!  A new CD Walkman!” Erin cried happily.

“Whoaaaaa! That is sooo cracker!” Orla beamed.

“Cheered you up a bit, has it?” Marco teased.

“Ach shuddup…. Thanks, Marco, it’s class.” Erin said warmly as she hugged him. Just then, they heard Eammon come downstairs.

“Right now! All seems to be well on the auld toilet front, Gerry.” He proclaimed proudly. “One slight hick…. There appears to be a wee chip on the auld cistern.” He said, walking into the kitchen.

“A chip? What chip? There was no chip on the auld cistern….. Eammon, why would there be a wee chip on the cistern? Ye were only unclogging it…..” Gerry asked suspiciously.

“Ach, Well. I say a wee chip, Gerry…. But it might be a wee bit bigger than a wee chip.” Eammon said nervously. The parents all glanced oddly at each other.

Gerry narrowed his eyes at Eammon. “…..How much bigger?” Gerry asked, his voice raising.

“Right, come on Orla. Let’s go get ready for school.” Erin grabbed Orla’s hand and led her up the stairs. Erin took one step into the bathroom and her face contorted with utter disbelief. “…… Daddy! Ye might wanna come look at this!” She cried.

Gerry rolled his eyes with frustration and made his way upstairs to survey the damage. He called down “See you later, Son!” to Marco as he ascended the stairs.  James and Michelle then arrived just as Marco was then swamped by the mammies who wished him a good time on his trip. James smiled while Michelle rolled her eyes, remembering how gushy her mam Deidre had gotten with him the night before, but Marco was thankful of their affection as he said goodbye to Mary and Sarah. He then gave Coco Pops one last tight hug before handing him over to Joe and Anna. Everyone couldn’t help but smile as they saw the auld man give Marco a big man-sized hug before they left.

“You take care, son. Have a grand time.” Joe said kindly.

“And for the love of God, mind yourself.” Mary said cautiously.

“And say hello to your father for us.” Sarah added.

“I will. Thanks everyone. Hope you get your head round the vote, Joe. You promise you’re gonna look after Coco Pops for me Anna, yeah? He asked.

“Yeah…. When will you be back?” Anna asked sheepishly.

“Seven days.” Marco answered giving her a wee hug.

As they drove towards Our lady immaculate college, James and Michelle sat with puzzled expressions while Erin explained to them how cousin Eammon managed to crack the cistern while unclogging the toilet. She was still just as baffled about it herself.

“Daddy was absolutely snapping!” Erin explained

“Ye sure your mammy’s hex on ya Aunt Bridie didn’t linger round and give him some form of bad luck?” Michelle quipped.

“Ach, Christ. Don’t start that again!” Erin moaned.

“If that’s the case, remind me never to piss your mum off, Erin.” James added, Marco couldn’t help but chuckle at that comment.

“You’ve no chance, Dicko. You’re in with them now. So, you’re bound to get up her hole at some point. Ye already get up mine.” Michelle shot.

“What’ve I done now?” Jamea asked, perplexed.

“What? Besides being an annoying English prick?” Michelle moaned.

“Leave ‘im alone, Michelle. Mam didn’t hex Bridie, and for information, she really likes James.” Erin argued.

“….. Does she really?” James asked, blushing.

 “Aye, Aunt Mary does like ye, James.” Orla agreed.

“Bit obvious, isn’t it James? I mean, coming to my rescue numerous times, and just being yourself. Erin smiled, pinching his cheek.

“Ach, boke!” Michelle groaned.

“God, I’m gonna miss this shit while I’m gone.” Marco laughed.

“Yeah, bet it’s gonna fail in comparison to being at Wembley, right?” James said playfully, shoving his arm.

“Only if we win.” Marco replied.

“Ah come on, Marco. They’re gonna smash it. Arsenal have already won the league.” James pointed out.

“Yeah….. I know, but thanks for reminding me.” Marco laughed.

“For God’s sake! You better not gloat when you come back, cos I won’t bloody talk to ya.” James said, failing to sound sincere.

“Ach, catch yourself on, James! We all know you’re gonna miss ya twin ballache over ‘ere!” Michelle quipped.

“Well, so are you.” James fired back.

“Aye, I’m gonna miss ‘im like a smear test, so I am. Michelle quipped.

“Aye, they’re a real bitch, so they are!” Orla agreed while Erin’s face contorted.

“Sure you’re gonna miss all this?” James asked Marco.

“Well, maybe a bit.” Marco quipped, making James laugh.

As they arrived at the gates of our Lady immaculate College, James reached into his rucksack and pulled out his video camera.

“What you getting that out for?” Erin asked. Michelle snorted at the innuendo. Jesus! She thought.

“Just something I wanna do for my little project.” James said.

As they stepped out of the car. James switched on his video camera and pointed it towards Orla. he then began commentating as he pressed record. While James recorded Orla, Michelle kept her distance, but stopped close enough to hear what Orla would say.

“Ok. It’s now officially one week away before Orla’s 18th birthday……” He started.

“Aaaaand, one week away from OUR 18th birthday party.” Erin gladly pointed out, joining her in front of the camera.

“Yes….. Thank you, Erin. So, with one week to go before your birthday, how are you feeling, Orla?” James asked through the camera.

“Can ye see if I’ve got any bogeys up my nose, James?” Orla asked, tilting her head. Marco burst out laughing.

“Focus, Orla!” Erin snapped.

“No, you’re fine Orla.” James sighed. Waiting for her answer.

Orla paused. Her jovial aura radiating from her. “…….. I think….. I feel like….. I’m riding on the best part of a roller coaster!!!….. I get sooo excited thinking about the vote that’s coming up…. And the party…. And my birthday…. It’s like everything’s gonna be sooo cracker when it’s time…. Aaaaaand everybody’s gonna be really buzzing when the vote happens!!!” Orla’s words were just about heard by Michelle who looked off despondently, which Marco noticed. “Aaaaand I get to share my party….”

“Our party!” Erin interjected. Orla eagerly wrapped an arm round her.

“Aaaaand, I get to share my birthday with the most cracking cousin EVER!!!” The peck she placed on Erin’s cheek softened her.

“Well, she’s only human, isn’t she?” Erin chuckled into the camera.

“The only thing is……” Orla pulled Marco into view. “I’m gonna miss this cracker fella right here! But…. He’s going to see his favourite football team win the FA Cup with his Da, so that’s grand.” Orla turned and smiled at Marco.

“That’s brilliant, Orla.” James beamed. Closing the camera.

“Right, well. Let’s shift inside. Bye Marco. Have good time. Thanks for the Walkman.” Erin hugged him goodbye.

“See you when I get back.” Marco called to Erin as she raced to go after Michelle. James had also noticed the manner of his cousin.

“Do you think she’s alright? She’s been a bit off this morning.” James asked.

“I thought that was just how she was most mornings.” Orla shrugged.

“Hmmm, you might wanna talk to her, James. Something’s….. on her mind.” Marco implied.

James nodded knowingly, taking heed of his advice. “Yeah…. Yeah alright. Ok, I will….. Oi, have a great time, mate. See you when you get back.” Orla smiled fondly as the two friends hugged each other goodbye.

“I will, bruv. Don’t get into too much shit while I’m gone.” Marco joked.

“Hey c’mon! What’s the worst that can happen? Don’t worry ‘bout it!” James spoke like he was in Goodfellas.

“Yeah, bollocks!” Marco laughed. They clasped hands. James then left Marco and Orla by themselves.

                He felt Orla’s hug was much tighter this time. Marco exhaled as he hugged her back. She was the one person he would miss most of all. But this time, there was no dread in his departure. No sadness. Just love. He couldn’t help but smile at the fact that Orla was wearing his dark blue tracksuit top, stamping her individuality on the school uniform. Orla then asked him a simple question.

“Put them on for me again, please?” She asked coyly.

Marco gushed sightly as he put on his glasses for Orla. He was then bombarded by Orla’s lips as she kissed him gently, but firmly. As she cupped his jaw; they hummed happily together as they made their kiss linger for as long as possible amid the wolf whistles from passing students. When they came up of the kiss, they rested their foreheads on each other’s whilst catching their breaths. Orla exhaled deeply as she gazed at him.

“That was cracker…… Don’t miss me too much now.” Orla said, smiling at him.

“Can’t promise that.” Marco whispered, smiling back at her. “….. I will miss you.”

Orla tilted her head, her warm smile radiated immensely. “Aye, I’ll miss ya too…. But just think how grand it’ll be when yet get back.” She smiled. Beaming a wide smile at him as she nuzzled their noses together. “Gone….. Get going. You’ll miss ya wee plane.”

“Oh…. don’t fancy flying me there yourself do you?” Marco asked playfully.

Orla paused and pondered for a second. “….. I would, but I left my swan wings at home. Aaaand I got exams and revision today. So, I’m up to ninety to be fair.” Orla said sincerely.

“Ah, Damn.” Marco chuckled. “Guess I’ll just have to wait till the end of the week when I see you again.” He shrugged.

“Aye. Desperate, isn’t it? Can’t wait.” Orla smiled happily. Her jovial mood was infectious as they laughed together.

                With one more kiss, he finally made his way to the car and drove away. James came back and held Orla’s hand for support as they watched Marco drive off. She rested her head on James’ shoulder.

“He will be alright, won’t he, James?” Orla asked.

James smiled warmly at her. “Yeah, you know him. He can take care of himself. Come on, Orla. The others are waiting.” Orla smiled warmly at her best friend and skipped alongside him towards the school entrance. Her mind full of happiness and anticipation.

It was just before midday when the plane finally took off. As it tilted to make its way towards London, Marco managed to catch a glimpse of the walled city below him. It would only be a short flight to London Heathrow airport. He thought about the tumultuous journey he had made back to England the last time he left. The lonely ferry journey, the lonely train ride, and the lonely walk back to the safe house that he had been placed in by Sister Michael.

But this time, he was feeling a grand sense of optimism. He was going to see Arsenal in the FA cup final. He was spending time with his Dad, and he knew how long he was going be away for, before he would see his friends again. He silently chuckled to himself as he looked at the dark rim glasses in his hand and thought about how unhinged Orla seemed to become whenever he wore them. Every time he thought about Orla, it was a pleasant one. He felt a feeling of longing in his chest, holding out to hold her again.

His daydreaming allowed the flight to go by a lot quicker as he landed at London Heathrow airport. It was a stark contrast to Derry Airport. Throwing his holdall bag over his shoulder, Marco walked up the pathway and into the metropolis sized arrivals area. He glanced around to see if he could catch a glimpse of his Dad. Tony had said that he would meet him in the arrivals, but Marco couldn’t see him anywhere. He searched the crowd of eager people waiting for their loved ones to arrive. Marco still couldn’t see his dad. He then turned around and there, walking up the pathway looking slightly concerned was Tony.

“Dad!” Marco cried out happily, catching Tony’s attention. His dad’s look of concern quickly melted away and gave way to elation as he called back.

“Aaaaaay Salve!!!!!”  Tony cried happily as Marco rushed to into him. “Awwww….. Che bello rivederti!!!… you alright, Marco?” Tony shook with glee as he held his son tight.

“Yeah, I’m good, Dad. Stai bene? You look a bit flustered.” Marco said, emotion overcoming him. Tony’s previous disposition returned. It looked as if he was baring some type of burden.

“Uuuuhh….. don’t worry about it now. Just…..” Tony sighed heavily as he held Marco tight. “Come on. Let’s get to the cab.” He suggested.

Marco furrowed his eyes curiously but nodded in agreement. He picked up his holdall bag and walked with his dad. An arm draped over each other. Tony tried to distract himself by asking Marco how everyone was in Derry. Marco told him about the situation with Eammon cracking the toilet cistern, amongst the numerous messages from the Quinn family, which made him laugh. As they got to the cab, Tony made haste, and they drove off. Marco could sense there was something off with his Dad and tried to break the tension.

“So, what’s up, Dad? We gotta go get the tickets from the box office in a couple of days, or are they at your place?” Marco asked with excitement.

Tony stuttered, unable to give him an answer. His breath hitched as he finally spoke.

“Um……. There’s something I need to tell you, Marco…… it’s about the tickets……” Tony stuttered. Marco suddenly felt a tension in his stomach.

Chapter Text

Later that afternoon. After he had managed some revision and editing on his home computer. James walked alone towards Erin’s house. It felt so alien to not have Marco around. Michelle was working at Dennis’ wee shop. He knocked on the door of the Quinn house. He smiled bashfully when Mary answered the door.

“Afternoon, Mrs Quinn.” James said politely.

“Ach, James love. Why you knocking? How many times have I told ya? Ya know yer welcome to just come in.” Mary tutted.

“Sorry, Mrs Quinn. Oh, sorry, Mary. I just…. keep forgetting.” He answered shyly. Mary rolled her eyes, but melted, appreciating the wee English fella’s manners.

“Ach, gone with ye, she’s in the kitchen.” She beamed. James gratefully walked in.

James caught sight of Orla in the living room. She was off in her own little world as always, reciting her dance sequence with her headphones over her ears. James wondered if she had heard from Marco, but chose not to interrupt her, seeing how focused she was. James seemed to drift off.

“Oi, James? I’m over here ye know?” Erin teased while sitting at the kitchen table. The wee English fella was startled. Erin sniggered before she felt him peck her lips softly. “Ye alright?” She asked.

“Yeah, I’m good thanks.” James said, unconvincingly.

“Away with the wee fairies, are ya, son?” Gerry asked.

“….. Sorry. I’m just wondering why he hasn’t called yet. His flight landed, I know that.” James replied sitting next to Erin.

“How did you find that out, son?” Sarah asked.

“Obvious, sure he just rang the travel agent.” Gerry answered.

“Oh, arc at the globetrotter here.” Joe sniped lightly.

“Actually, I used my computer. I found out using the internet.” James said excitedly.

“Seriously? That weird thingamagig everyone’s harking about? Your computer can do that?” Mary asked in amazement.

“Christ, she is so ancient.” Erin mumbled to herself.

“Wow! It’s like the world’s just accelerating so it is, Mary! First, the microwave, and now the Internet!” Sarah exclaimed in awe.

“It’s like we’re living in that film with that car.” Joe added.

“What car?” Gerry asked.

“You know! The car that travels back in time, leaves fire trails as it goes along. Sister Michael has one.” Joe explained.

“You’re talking about Back to the future, Joe?” Gerry asked.

“Aye, that’s the one.” Joe agreed.

“Cracker film!” Orla called out.

“Classic.” James agreed, making Orla smile.

“Is Sister Michael aware her car can do that? Not gonna lie, but I reckon the MOT on that thing must cost an arm and a leg if it can travel back in time.” Sarah pointed out. James stared awkwardly at her.

“DeLorean’s don’t actually travel back in time, Aunt Sarah.” Erin huffed.

“Well, I wouldn’t bank on it Erin. I read somewhere that sooner than later, you’ll actually be able to have like…. Video phone calls over the internet.” Sarah exclaimed.

“Whoa! Mind blown! Will our voices sound like wee robots, Mammy?” Orla asked with excitement.

“Who knows, love?” Sarah answered.

“Why would you want your voice to sound like a robot, Orla?” James asked.

“Do ye really have to ask?” Erin scoffed.

“Christ! As if the cordless phone was bad enough. What a waste of time that was. We bought that thing, and once it was lost, we couldn’t find it for days!” Gerry exclaimed.

“Wish we could lose the moaning prick over here.” Joe huffed.

“Aye, well at least we got the microwave.” Mary sighed with relief.

As the conversation ended, Erin saw the concerned look on James’ face. “Ach, don’t lose the run of yerself, James. I’m sure Marco’s grand. Look at Orla, she’s not shiteing the tights, is she now?” Erin pointed Orla out to James. She was now stepping with Granda Joe, clapping as he got the sequence right.

“Yeah, I know he’s fine…. Just wish he’d just….” James stopped.

“Let us know?” Erin finished for him. James nodded. “He will, James. He always let’s us know one way or the other.” Erin kissed his cheek again, stroking James’ back to give him some comfort.

The Quaint, second floor flat overlooked the edge of Wimbledon common.  Marco sat grimly on the sofa in his dad’s flat. His mind reeling from what his dad had told him on the journey from the airport. In the space of a few hours, he’d gone from elation to devastation, and confusion.

The dream of the FA cup final, the one thing that he dreamt about going to since he was little was now, sadly, just a dream again. It baffled Marco when his Dad had rocked him with the revelation that in fact, his mum Tracy had been the one who had bought the tickets for the game. But in a cruel twist of fate, her old boyfriend, Billy Foreman had forced himself into their old house while Tracy was out and had stolen the tickets. Marco felt a heavy tension stirring in his chest. It was something he hadn’t felt for a long time.

                Anger and painful memories jostled inside the young man’s head as he tried to make sense of what he’d just learnt. The painful mark that Billy had left on him was still evident. Tony walked in from the kitchen and sighed heavily as he saw Marco’s dejected disposition. He placed 2 cups of black coffee down on the coffee table in front of them and sat next to Marco.

“So, how’d you like the flat?..... Nice isn’t it?” Tony attempted to break the tension but sighed heavily with regret as he saw the utter disappointment in his son’s eyes. “I’m sorry, Marco. I….. I just didn’t know how else to tell you.” He stayed quiet, giving his son a chance to answer.

“….. Why?..... Why him?” Marco growled quietly.

Tony resigned sadly. “I know, prick doesn’t seem to get the hint, does he?” Tony mirrored Marco’s anger.

“When did it happen?” Marco asked.

“Yesterday.” Tony answered sadly. “I was on my way round to pick them up, but your Mum insisted she wanted to come here to give them to you herself.”

Marco scoffed and shook his head. “18 months. That’s what it’s been….. 18 months. She never answered any of my letters….. didn’t ring me….. never even asked how I was doing.” He grumbled sadly.

Tony sighed and went to speak. “She wanted to….. but-“

Marco then snapped. “But what? She was too busy, or just too busy getting pissed?! It was usually one or the other with her! Two faced, selfish…..”

“Hey!!!! …… Ay, calmati.” Tony said sternly “Take it easy, Alright?….. Yes….. I know! I remember! She screwed up! She knows that….. But she wants to-“

Marco jumped in. “Wants to what?.... What?! she thinks she can just buy me back after what she did? Telling the Police what HE did to me was an accident? Pushing me away…. then trying to coax me to making her my trustee?!” He cried angrily as he paced round the living room.

“I know. And I told her how I felt about that. But you gotta know that was him pulling her strings.” Tony tried to stay calm.

“No, I didn’t! I mean I guessed so….. But she still did it, Dad! She had a choice…. And she chose HIM.…. She turned her back on me, on US!!” Marco grimaced with sadness.

Tony got up from the sofa and put his hands on Marco’s shoulders. He could feel the pain of the past oozing out of his son as he hugged him. He kept his tone gentle. “Hey…. Shhh…. I know.....  I know …… And I’m not asking you to forgive her just like that…. But what was it Joe told you? ….. if you don’t let go of this anger It will just eat away at you…. Ok? ….. Listen, you need to know everything what’s been going on.” Tony insisted.

Marco’s fists were clenched tight. He felt like he wanted to explode, but he could hear the compassion of his grandparents in his Dad’s voice. He knew that whenever he said something like this, there was always a reason behind it.  Pushing the anger down deep inside him, Marco let out a long, shivering breath and listened reluctantly.

Tony sat him back down on the sofa and took a deep breath “…… Right….. your Mum’s relationship with him…. It wasn’t…. well, it wasn’t great.” Marco huffed at the irony of his statement.

Tony went on. “I pretty much left her to her own devices after we split up… and I regret that…. Because I wasn’t there for you when …. He did what he did to you…. Believe me…  I wanted to smash that Bastardo up the second I heard about it, but people like him ….” He trailed off, his anger boiling to the surface. He took a breath. “…. Anyway, it wasn’t till I came back from visiting you when the shit really hit the fan, and I found out exactly what’s been going on…. Marco, your Mum has been living out in Spain with Billy for about a year.”

“What?” Marco whispered, flabbergasted.

Tony sighed with agitation. “Yeah….. Well at least she was. Billy sold her the dream about starting a new life out there. You know how your Mum always had… well…. High ambitions…. That was likely the reason why she was pushing to be your trustee. Billy was pushing for it the whole time to set them up in Spain, but when you chose Joe as your trustee, Billy went behind your Mum’s back and took out a whole bunch of loans in your Mum’s name without her knowing.”

“He did what?!” Marco growled.

Despite how he felt about his mum; Marco boiled at the injustice of Billy Foreman deceiving her for the sake of living it up in Spain at her expense. His mind shot back to his memories of that man. His puffed-up face, his smug grin, his sickening fake ‘Jack the lad’ mannerism, the arrogance in his voice, the painful memories then came flooding back to him, but he quickly shook them off.

Tony continued. “The day after I came back from Derry…… I got a phone call from your Mum saying there were bailiffs knocking on the door.”

“What you saying…. Oh God. You didn’t pay them, did you, Dad?” Marco despaired.

“I had to, while your mum was away, she hadn’t paid the mortgage, the council tax…. That stronzo said he’d do it, and she bloody believed him! If I didn’t pay them, they would have taken the house and turfed your mum out. I had to use quite a bit of what Nanna left.” Tony admitted.

Marco clenched his eyes with annoyance. “…… And what did she have to say?” He scoffed.

“Nothing. There was nothing she could say…. She swore she didn’t have a clue. Like I haven’t heard that before. I’ve never been angrier at anyone in all my life….. for everything she did to us, for what she said about Nanna and Nonno, and the way she pushed you aside…. All because of him…... Trust me, I ripped into her!” Tony’s gruff and heavy voice made Marco remember that he wasn’t the only one hurt by his Mum’s actions.

“But why did you help her, Dad?” Marco asked.

Tony’s expression softened. “I guess I just don’t have it in me to be cruel. I can never forgive your Mum for she did…. But she’s still your Mum, she’s still family.”

As much as his stomach clenched with bitter memories. Deep down, Marco knew his Dad was right. “Did she say anything?” Marco asked.

“I’m telling you what she said….. everything that happened….. other than when she was out in Spain…..eventually…. Well, let’s just say she finally saw the real Billy.” Tony said. Marco shuddered, knowing exactly what his Dad meant. “I’m just more annoyed that she got sucked in by him.”

“So, she left him, right?” Marco asked.

“No. The other way round, actually. One day, he was just gone. Took all his things and left her out in Spain on her own, and a mountain of debt back here.” Tony said.

Marco felt like he wanted to throw up. The haunting memory of what Billy did to him was one thing, but his Mum’s selfish actions, which led to her own comeuppance didn’t feel right somehow. He felt confused. He thought he would be pleased to hear that she got what she had coming to her after she abandoned him….. Yet, he felt something he didn’t expect. Sympathy. He actually felt sorry for her. He had suspected that his mum had been manipulated by Billy, but not this much. How could she have been so easily led?

“Did he ever….. hit her?” Marco forced himself to ask.

Tony paused, “She…. didn’t say.” He answered. “Why did you ask that?”

Marco swallowed the lump in his throat. “I dunno.” He shrugged.

“I do.” Tony replied knowingly.

“Look, that’s not the point. Dad, why didn’t you tell me you were going through all this?” He asked sadly.

“I’m telling you now, because you need to….. I didn’t say before because you’re doing so well your apprenticeship, and your friends, and Orla.” Tony answered. “I’m proud of you, son. And Nanna and Nonno would be too.”

Marco paused. He understood but still resigned sadly. “Bet she hasn’t even asked about me, has she? …..Has she?” He asked hesitantly.

“She did…. After I was done biting her head about not even calling you on your 18th….. I know that bothered more than you let on….. and yes, she has been asking about you….. a lot.” Tony revealed.

“…. What have you told her?” He asked timidly.

“I told her you’re doing great in your apprenticeship, that you’re happy, told her that you had a great group of friends, and…. well…. lovely doesn’t really do Orla justice, does it?” Tony smiled, to which Marco also smiled slightly. “And…. You’re keeping yourself out of trouble…. Just about.” Marco couldn’t help but snort bitterly at Tony’s quip.

“Why didn’t she just call me?” Marco asked, his voice low.

“She wanted to…. But she had to sort herself out first. She was too scared to.” Tony answered.

“What, And I wasn’t scared?” Marco groaned. His eyes red with anger and sorrow. “I was scared shitless cos I kept thinking……” Marco stopped.

“…. What?” Tony asked, frowning his eyes. “Say it.”

Marco swallowed bitterly. “……I used to keep thinking….. that I was gonna get a phone call saying that she was in hospital, or..... She NEVER even TRIED TO….” He couldn’t finish the sentence. He felt his Dad bring him into an embrace, holding him tightly, he let Marco come undone.

“Shhhh… It’s alright, son. Don’t worry, it’s alright….. I’ve got you.” Tony softly urged. his own eyes welled up.

“…. I don’t know what to feel here, Dad…. I just wanted to come here and go to the cup final.” Marco stressed through his tears. He held onto his Dad like a lifeline.

Tony held his son tight as he shook with sadness and anger. It was then they noticed the presence of someone else in the room. Tony gave Marco’s shoulder a light squeeze to get his attention. He motioned Marco to turn round. As he slowly turned round. His breath shook as he saw the third person in the room.

Tracy stood before them both. She looked….. different. Gone were the long blonde locks with dark roots. Her brazen attire replaced by a simpler one. Wearing baggy jeans and a hoodie, sporting a short pixie haircut like Princess Diana’s. Her eyes were slightly sunken, no makeup, her lips quivered as she stood shaking anxiously. She looked thinner.

“Hey, calma. Non ti arrabbiare. OK?” Tony advised Marco. “I think it’s time you two finally had a little chat, OK? Talk.” He advised.

Tony looked at Tracy who nodded at him before he walked out of the living room. He joined Cathy Maguire, who was waiting in the kitchen. The man pinched the bridge of his nose as he let out a weary sigh. He caught sight of a Christmas photo from 1988 pinned on the fridge. It showed Tony’s parents with Marco and James when they were children, along with Cathy, himself and Tracy during happier times. Cathy stroked his back as she looked at the photo with him.

“Aye, that was a grand time, so it was. How bout ya, Tony?” Cathy asked kindly. Keeping her voice low.

“I don’t know, Cathy. Thanks for bringing her round. I kept thinking she’d get cold feet.” Tony sighed sadly.

“No. She’s here, isn’t she? If she really wants to make things right with Marco, she needs to start somewhere. It’s not ideal, but it’s a start, aye?” Cathy assured him.

“Yeah, just wish that bastard just stayed where he was.” Tony grimaced.

“She couldn’t have known.” Cathy said.

“It’s not just the tickets, it’s everything!…. Pezzo di merda….  I should’ve just gone out there and string him up from the nearest tree.” Tony grumbled angrily.

“Oi, wise up, as grand as that sounds, hanging him by the neck won’t do any good, will it now?” Cathy said.

“Who said anything about stringing him up by the neck?” Tony shot back.

“Huh, not gonna lie, you sounded a wee bit like Joe McCool there…. I’ll make us a cuppa.” Cathy moved towards the kettle.

The anger stirred inside Tony as he slouched against the kitchen top. But as justified as he would feel in seeking some form of retribution against Billy Foreman for what he did to his family. Tony Galluci knew that Cathy was right. People like Billy Foreman would cower behind the law and manipulate it to his own pathetic whim given half the chance. But there was something else, something Marco was about to find out.

                In the living room, Marco stared blankly at his Mum. He searched for some sort of anchor to stop him from boiling over. He broke his stare to think of something. He thought of Orla, James and the girls. But the burning feeling in his throat intensified. Tracy took in the sight of her estranged son. No longer the skinny, cheeky, happy go lucky little boy she once knew. She searched for a word to say, any word.

Tears trinkled down Tracy’s cheeks. “….. I….. I’m so sorry about the tickets, sweetheart.” She managed to say.

Marco shuddered and moved away from her. “Sorry…. No, Marco, Please wait!” Her plead made him stop. “I…. I didn’t know he’d come back. I promise, I thought I’d left him behind for good in Spain.” Tracy explained.

“What? Like you did to me?” Marco snapped. His growl in his voice failing to hide just how hurt he was.

“….. I deserve that….. I…. I came home yesterday, and found the house was turned upside down…. I thought the tickets would be somewhere amongst everything….. but then he rang me.” Tracy whimpered.

“What do you mean he rang you?” Marco asked, confused.

Tracy sniffed; tears escaped her eyes. “Billy rang me on my mobile…. He…. He said he’d give them back….. if I paid him for them.” She confessed.

“Whaaaaat?!” Marco growled with anger.

“He said he wants 5 for them.” Tracy wept.

“5? 5 What?, 500 quid?!” Marco stressed.

“5... grand.” Tracy’s voice cracked. “Said he wants to go back to Spain, and he knows we’ve got it…. I guess he figured they were for you.” Tracy looked and saw the contorted face of anguish and bafflement on her son’s face. “I worked every hour I could, I went in on weekends, I did everything I could for those tickets….. and I know you’re upset, Marco-”

He cut her off. “Upset?! You think this is the only reason I’m upset?!.... You have no idea!….. All I wanted to do, was to just go to Wembley with Dad!” He stressed sadly.

“Well, actually I was gon….” Tracy then stopped.

“What?!” Marco snapped, waiting for her to finish.

“….. Doesn’t matter.” Tracy whimpered.

Marco clocked what she was getting at. He huffed out short bursts of air, his hurt at the forefront. “Oh…. So what was your plan? You thought you could buy some football tickets and it’ll all be swept under the carpet….? Like nothing ever happened?!” He shouted with anger.

“No…. I just wanted to try and make up for…..” She stopped.

“For making me feel like I meant nothing?!..... You tore us apart! Y’know, there is someone who I care about…. Someone I love sooo much…..she’s back in Derry, having her 18th, and I’m missing it cos she said she was alright with me coming here….. And now I feel like I’m hurting her!!!” Marco cried angrily.

Tracy stayed quiet.

“Now you’re telling me that piece of shit wants us to PAY him?! Does Dad know?!” Marco snapped, his voice cracking.

“He knows. I had to stop him from going out looking for him.” Tracy admitted. The silence from him was palpable. Tony was listening intently in the kitchen. His breaths was short and painful.

“Let him get it out, Tony.” Cathy held Tony’s hand.

Back in the living room, Marco spoke. “.... If you wanted to make things right….. Why didn’t you answer my letters?.... Why didn’t you call me?.... Why did you shut me out?! …… How could you let him con you like that?..... HOW COULD YOU HAVE LEFT DAD FOR HIM?!” His voice raising with each question.

Tracy’s lip shook, unable to give an answer. “…. I didn’t know you wrote….he…. he changed the phone number…. Honest…..I was…. I’m so sorry.” Her voice barely a whisper.

Her hand shook as she tried to reach out and touch Marco’s arm, but he snatched him arm away. Tracy let out a guttural cry as Marco walked past her. “NO MARCO, PLEASE!” Tracy’s cries stammered as she collapsed onto the sofa, she cried in agony as she watched him walk out the living room.

“Marco? Marco?!” Tony called out but the bedroom door was slammed in his face, shutting him out. Marco collapsed to the floor and hid his face, wishing he’d never left Derry.

The next morning, back in Derry. Michelle walked down the stairs of her house as she got ready to meet Erin and Orla down at the parish hall to help set up for their party. She pulled their invite out of her pocket. She sniggered at the theme. “Literacy greats and Mokeys” Shaking her head at the misspelling of monkeys. She walked into the living room and saw her mam Deidre staring intently at the TV. The news was touching on paramilitary prisoners being released in relation to the Good Friday agreement. Michelle felt a lump in her throat as Deidre turned the TV off.

“Right. You two shift asap. Ye hear?” Deidre said, before setting off for work.

“No worries, mam.” Michelle forced an upbeat tone. She huffed out heavily as Deidre made her way out. “….. JAMES?! Where the fuck ae ye?” She snapped out loudly.

“I’m in here!” James called from the kitchen. Michelle walked in to see him sitting at the table looking at the phone.

“Ach, for God’s sake, James! WHY are ya being such a melter! Why don’t ye just ring him?!”

“Well, I don’t want him to think I’m……”

“What? A clingy English prick?” Michelle shot. “Too late for that.” She added.

“I’m not clingy! He’s my best mate. I’m just worried about him.” James answered.

“Huh. You’d never get this high doh about me!” Michelle huffed sarcastically.

“You think I wouldn’t get this worried about you?” James asked.

“Catch yourself on!” Michelle shrugged. Expecting James to reassure her.

“You’re right, I wouldn’t.” James said bluntly.

“What?! What do ya mean ya wouldn’t?!” Michelle snapped in astonishment. “Why the fuck not?! Ach, well that’s just fucking cracker! After everything I’ve done for ya, ya selfish English pr….”

“Ah, so you would like it if I worried this much about you?” James smiled cheekily.

Michelle’s face went red, caught out by her own indulgence in self- importance. “Fuck off, wank features! Since when you got so cocky.” Which was all she could say,

James groaned as he punched his arm. “Didn’t know you cared so much.”

“Shut the fuck up. Come on, let’s shift. Erin and Orla are waiting for us.” Michelle replied. Inside though, she was grateful.

“Michelle?..... Can I ask you something?” James asked.

“Make it quick!” Michelle moaned, putting her blazer on.

“Well…. I just want to make sure you’re alright. I heard what was on the TV.” James admitted. Causing Michelle to stop and turn and glare at him.

“Don’t talk about that, alright? It’s bad enough Mam isn’t talking about it…. And I’m getting the feeling that…. Some people aren’t exactly buzzing over it either.” Michelle snapped.

“Who?” James asked.

Michelle stopped herself from saying. “It doesn’t matter. Just, promise me something OK?”

“Yeah, sure.” James said.

“You’d…… stick by me, aye? I mean, we’re family, no matter what. We stock together!” Michelle had a hint of anxiety in her eyes as she asked.

“Well, yeah. Course I would….. Why you asking?”

“Nothing. Just remember what ya just said aye?” Michelle pointed at him. “Now, come on.”

                James was confused by what just took place. He then grabbed his blazer and followed her out the door.

The morning rush hour traffic of London was a sound Marco had long forgotten. It had a distinct ambience, but it failed in comparison to a morning in Derry as he stirred awake. He hadn’t slept well. He felt completely drained from the night before. Forgetting where he was, he looked around to see an Arsenal program sprawled over his bed, then he remembered. His dream of going to the FA cup final was now in tatters thanks to Billy Foreman. He’d only just woken up and his mind was already racing. He thought about how he’d unleashed on his Mum the night before. Hating the conflict within his conscience, even though everything he said to her was right…. The mental jostle gave him a shooting pain in his temple.

Marco reached in desperation for his wallet that sat on the bedside cabinet. He pulled out a folded photograph of himself and the gang crammed into a Photo Booth. Sitting up in bed, he felt the tension ease slightly as he observed the picture.

‘Orla’s sparkling grin, her eyes crossed and her arms round him as he copied her expression. Erin and James pursing their lips at the camera, Michelle pushing her tongue against the inside of her cheek, making a suggestive innuendo, and Clare grimacing at Michelle’s coarse gesture.’

He exhaled sadly, wishing he was with them right now. Just then, there as a gentle knock on the door.

“Marco?.... You up?” His Dad called. “Look, I need to step out and work for a bit, can I come in?

“Yeah, I’m up.” Marco grumbled, hearing the door open.

“Here. Get a good start on the day.” Tony placed a cup of tea on the beside cabinet. “Bit intense last night wasn’t it?” Tony asked cautiously. He saw Marco look off, not wanting to be reminded.

“…. Marco, look, I’m sorry that things didn’t work out the way we hoped. But it’s not your Mum’s fault. Not this time….. Trust me, I want to smash that wanker up just as much as you do, but it won’t do no good…. And being angry at your Mum isn’t that change that either.”

“Dad…..” Marco went to speak but Tony cut him off.

“No. Let me finish! I know we’re far from perfect. Things will never be able to go back to how it was….. But whether we like it or not. We are a family!  We’ve all lost, and some of us have made mistakes…. But let me ask you… Do you really want to go through the rest of your life carrying all that …. Bitterness?”

Marco dwelled on his thoughts. He knew the true answer. “…. No. Not really…. But how am I supposed to just forget what she did?”

Tony nodded. “I know. I know it’s a lot to ask of you. You didn’t deserve any of the things that happened to you. But your Mum wants to try and make things right. And no, it can’t be overnight. But you have to start somewhere, right? Your mum didn’t exactly run away from anything last night, did she? She knew you needed to get that out.  But what I heard last night, that wasn’t you…. That was the anger talking. Trust me, I Know.”

Marco pondered his Dad’s words. Hearing his grandparent’s wisdom again. “I wish… they were here.” Feeling a lump in his throat.

“So, do I. I miss them every day. Forgiveness was your Nanna’s core belief. Can you try for her sake?”  Tony asked. “If she were here, she would try…. Look, I need to step out. If you want to see your Mum, she’s staying round Cathy’s. She won’t go back to the house on her own. Too worried someone might turn up. Ok? Talk to you later.” Tony patted Marco’s arm and left.

                With his Dad’s words ringing in Marco’s mind, he needed to get out of the flat to clear the cobwebs. The flat wasn’t wasn’t far away from where they used to live. Marco jumped on a local bus to go down towards his former stomping ground. Conveniently, the bus neared his old secondary school where he went with James. He chose to get off the bus just outside the school. He could see the old building. It was a good chance that some of his old classmates were still there studying for their A-levels. But he chose not to venture into the building. Instead, he wandered down the road and could see the cemetery where his grandparents lay. When he found their joint tombstone. It was as immaculate as it was from when he last saw it. He smiled sadly at their face’s encased inside the oval frame.

                The lad crouched pressed his forehead on the cold stone.

“I wish you was here, Nanna. Was that really you?” He asked. Remembering her ‘visit’ back in Derry during the blackout. He stayed there for a while talking to them both.

“Had a feeling I’d find ya here.” A voice said.

Marco turned to see Cathy Maguire standing nearby. “Cathy? What’s wrong?”

“You need to come with me, son.” Cathy said. Her voice carried a weight of importance.

                Cathy brought Marco round to her house. He hadn’t seen it in years but followed her inside. In the living room, Tracy’s hand shook as she took a puff on her cigarette t calm her nerves. Her breaths were ragged with anger as she heard the arrogant voice of Billy Foreman snigger down the other end of the phone. She paced around Cathy’s living room, desperate for a solution that didn’t come.

“Look, Billy. I told you I don’t have that sort of money!!!!!   PLEASE…… just give the tickets back and we’ll sort something out!” She pleaded. She flinched at the sneering voice talking back to her.

“Bollocks you don’t! I know you ex sorted out your bills, and I know who these tickets are for. So don’t you gimme that old cobblers!”

Marco followed Cathy and they stayed out of the sight, she silently picked up the phone in the hallway and handed it to Marco. Allowing him to listen in. He felt a cold shiver rush up his back as he heard Billy’s voice scolding his mum.

“You think you can try and pull one over on me? You ain’t been NOTHING but a burden to me! But I your ex has a bit stashed away! So does that little toe rag of yours! Well, I want what’s coming to me and I want it now!”

“Who do you think you are, ‘Billy big bollocks’ or something?! Trust me Billy, there ain’t nothing big about your bollocks! Lemme ask you; Did it make ya feel like a man taking a belt to my boy?!” Tracy sniped.

“Cut the crap, Tracy! I ain’t the one begging down the phone for these tickets, am I?!..... Then again you weren’t exactly above begging were ya?!”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Billy! There weren’t exactly much to beg for!”

“Yeah?! Well, how about I Just take these tickets, rip them up, and wipe my arse with them?!”

“Cos You ain’t that much of a plank! You know how much those tickets could go for!” Tracy fired back.

“Bloody right I do!!! But since you won’t fork out for them…. Maybe I’ll pay your ex-husband a little visit?...... or maybe I’ll take a little trip down memory lane with that little toe rag son of yours…. Bet he must’ve been a bit cheesed off when he found out he weren’t going to Wembley, ay? How’d that make YOU feel? Knowing you let him down all over again?!”

Marco felt his anger reach the breaking point as he heard Billy’s sneering voice down the phone, but his heart ached hearing his Mum standing up for him.

“Don’t you DARE even talk about Marco!!!!  ….. I will NEVER forgive myself for letting you in after what YOU did to him!!!! worthless piece of …..”

“Oi Oi Oi!!!!!! Who you think you’re talking to? Do you have any idea how much flack I had to take cos of what he did to ME?!”

“Oh gawd!!!! You still whining bout when Marco laid you out like a plank? You’re pathetic, Billy!” Tracy shouted down the phone.

Marco heard Billy breathe raggedly down the phone “…… That little prick DIDN’T lay me out!”

“Oh yeah, that’s right. He didn’t lay you out. He just knocked you spark out!” Tracy taunted him.

“It was a lucky shot! You know, I can proper see where that little shit got his mouth from! He certainly didn’t get it from your ex…. Or did he get it from the eyetye that shagged you and then killed himself?!”

“WHY DON’T YOU COME AND FIND OUT THEN, YOU MOUTHY WANKER?!” A bellowing yell rang down the line.

There was silence. Then the man finally spoke. His voice shaking with laughter. “…..S’that you, boy?”

“Marco?” Tracy said, stunned.

She looked round the living room, then darted to the hallway and found Marco holding the other phone. Cathy stopped her. Marco paced as he heard Billy’s arrogance ooze down the line. The man sneered as he goaded the young man.

“Yeah it’s you, isn’t it?….. What’s the matter Boy? Cat got ya tongue? Wanna talk to me do ya? Come on, talk to me….. I know you got some snarky little thing tucked up ya sleeve. You always did. Mouthy, just like your skanky Mum…… Come on, talk to me! Guess what? I got something for you…. And I’m just dying to give it to you…. It’s long, thick and it stings when I swing it!”

“Well, you ain’t talking about your dick, that’s for sure.” Marco shot back. Stopping Billy.

“Marco, please. Just hang up the phone sweetheart. Lemme sort this. This is my mess, let me…” Tracy pleaded desperately, but Marco put his hand up to her. He then spoke to Billy again.

“You wanna talk to someone Billy? You think you can treat my Mum like shit cos you think she ain’t gonna fight back, do you?.... Well, I’m ‘ere…. And I never liked the way you talked to my Mum…. You stole something off us, and you think you can get away with it? No bloody chance. I won’t even bother asking you to come see me cos that micro dick of yours is probably shrivelled up like a raisin, Wank Stain!” He shouted.

Marco then stopped talking. Billy’s cackling laugh down the line made his blood run cold. The memory of Billy standing over him in his nightmare flashed in his mind.

“Yeah there he is… Always were a gobby little shit weren’t you? You think talking big down the phone to me’s gonna change the fact that I got these tickets you little eyetye bastard!...... Now you listen to me, boy!.......  I had to listen to everyone from the pub to the yard take the piss outta me thanks to you!!!!! ……Well now YOU’RE gonna pay!!! I’m done with that slapper you call your mum, I’m done with your old man, and I’m done with this craphouse…. You want me out of our Mum’s life for good? …. You get your arse down to the bank and get me 5 grand for these tickets…. Or your parents are gonna be looking over their shoulders for the rest of their lives, and you can visit them in the hospital, along with your dead grandparents…. And don’t bother calling the old bill…. I’ve already told them your old man’s made a threat against me…. And I’ll do the same to you and proper fuck your life up! See you can’t run off and hide with those backward micks in Ireland this time…. Mar-co!. Come down the Red Lion with the money tomorrow and you’ll get these tickets back….. you hear me?......YOU HEAR ME BOY?!!!” Billy cackled again before hanging up the phone.

                Marco felt his chest get heavier and heavier as short, ragged breaths escaped him. Putting the phone on the hook. He shook with sheer anger, swearing at Billy under his breath, he spun round, ready to finally explode.

“You….. MOTHERFUUUU-“  He muttered but then he stopped cold.

He saw his Mum looking out the living room window. She had her back to him. She hid her face in her hand as weeping breaths escaped her. He suddenly felt a huge pang of guilt hit him. He stood and took in what he saw. Tracy looked so broken over the tickets. He then thought about what his Dad said earlier.

His then cast his mind back to that morning in Derry when he was at his lowest before Orla gave him that one hug which eased all his pain. Marco felt rotten down to his core. His Mum was now in that same place. Although she had hurt him deep, and he had every reason to hate her more than anything. Deep down, he knew he didn’t want to feel this way anymore.

He then thought about what his grandparents, mostly what his Nanna would say about his outbursts from the night before. He felt so ashamed. Just then, surprisingly, he heard Orla’s voice in his head. He remembered her buzzing about finishing ‘The Lion, the witch and the wardrobe’: reeling from the revelation about Aslan.

“I’m telling ya. My mind is just blown right now….. Aslan is Jesus as a lion! That is sooo class!”

“Hahaha, you see. I knew you’d like it.”

“Ach…. I dunno why I didn’t see it sooner! Whoa… so Jesus can change shape? Why didn’t he just do that they crucified ‘im? He must have forgot!”

“Well, possibly…. But if he had done, then that would have meant no one’s sins would have forgiven.”

“Aye….. Guess so… I mean he was working flat out with all those miracles. Wow. Ach, he is so sound!”

“Who?”

“Aslan. I mean, he could have easily ripped Edmund to pieces for betraying all of them.  Aaand, Edmund was such an arsehole to wee Lucy. And Peter was right to bite his head off…. But Aslan just made them all see that shit happens sometimes, but it’s a lot easier to forgive and move on if someone really means that they’re sorry….”

That they’re sorry….

They’re sorry….

Sorry…..”

As Orla’s voice faded away. Marco felt something shift. Orla was right. He then heard Cathy’s voice close to his ear.

“Marco….. go to her. She needs you.” She said softly, her expression frowning.

Marco heard his Mum’s hitched breaths reach his ears. He closed his eyes, his chest pinged with regret. He swallowed hard. The anger that had once stirred inside him for his mum seemed to melt like the winter of Narnia itself. Thinking about how torn she was over letting him down. He slowly found himself standing behind Tracy.

His voice shook as he spoke. “…… Mmmm…. Mum?”

Tracy immediately turned around. She didn’t know he was there. She was just as startled to hear him call her that. They looked at each other, frozen, both uncertain what to do. Their expressions matching each other, pleading. Marco finally stepped forward. Tracy gasped with relief as she felt him wrap his arms around her. She lunged in and hugged him with everything she had. They finally let go of the pain, sobbing together.

“I’m…. so sorry.” Tracy wept.

“I’m sorry too.” Marco shook with sadness

“No….. Don’t. You didn’t do anything wrong.” Her voice barely a whisper. “……It’s all my fault.”

 “Shhhhh……. It’s alright, Mum…… It’s alright.” Marco felt her press herself against him, hugging her son tight.

Chapter Text

Orla sheepishly followed Erin home from the parish hall. Not sure about what just happened. All she could remember was that she heard things she didn’t want to hear, an argument. She didn’t like arguments, they were one of few things that scared her, the noise hurt her ears. She could still hear the argument between Erin and Michelle ringing in her head while James had tried to comfort her with her long-armed monkey soft toy. She felt an annoying twitch on the side of her head, aggravating her as she walked along.

James sat nervously in his room while Michelle had shut herself away in her bedroom. The tension in the house was so thick, you could cut it with a knife. But then the booming bass sound of music pulsated through the walls. James attempted to distract himself with his computer, but his mind was full of lingering thoughts of what had just happened. While showing loyalty to Michelle by walking out of the parish hall with her, explaining briefly to Erin that it was a “cousin thing”, the wee English fellow couldn’t help but worry whether or not his actions that just caused an irreparable rift between himself and his girlfriend.

The upbeat tune of Run DMC “It’s like that” echoed around Michelle’s bedroom, but the feisty Mallon girl simply stood over her DJ decks, not jiving with the tune, simply wishing to drown out what was circulating in her mind. Her loyalty to her brother Niall finally coming to the forefront after remembering the multiple times she had noticed every single judgmental glance from Erin. She quickly wiped a tear from her eye, not knowing for sure what she was more upset about; the issue with her brother, Niall, The fact her mam wouldn’t let her visit him, the ‘rock and hard place’ she found herself in with the Good Friday vote, or the fact that she felt let down by her best friend, Erin.

Meanwhile, in Strabane, Clare paced worryingly around her kitchen, reeling from the fallout between Erin and Michelle. Short bursts of panicky breath escaped her as she attempted to calm herself, but only finding herself becoming more and more panicky about the situation. She could hear her own voice as she questioned every aspect.

“Oh my god! What the feck just happened?! Now what do I do? What does this mean for their party? Sure, they’ll be able to sort this out, right?.... What am I thinking? I know those two…. they’ll stretch this out for all eternity. Will Erin and James break up cos of this?!..... Sweet suffering, Jesus!!! I don’t wanna be stuck in this sort of situation!!!! It’s bad enough that I moved out here but now I’m gonna have to choose between the two of them!!!! this is so not what I needed to have during A-levels!!!!! Ach thanks girls!!!!”

Once she had a moment to herself. Erin grabbed her diary to log her feelings. Her hand shook uncontrollably with emotion as she wrote.

Erin’s diary:

“What the fuck just happened? One minute I was putting up a cardboard cut-out of Samuel Becket, the next thing, I’m being called a spoiled, self-centred brat by my best friend of ALL people!!! As if things weren’t bad enough, what with my party being overshadowed by the Good Friday vote, and the fact that Jenny Joyce decides to throw her own party on the same day as mine….. Now Michelle and James have walked out on me!

How could Michelle act so selfishly? For all the years I’ve stood behind her despite what her brother did, she turns around and tries to make me feel bad about having strong moral values?

What did she even mean? ‘Things aren’t always black-and-white’…. Is there something I’m supposed to know? I mean, our mammies never spoke about what happened with Niall….. except that he got involved with a para group and they set off a bomb! An actual bomb!!! And some poor fella got killed because of it!

Why on earth should the ones who committed atrocious things throughout this whole monstrosity be pardoned for what they did?! They made a choice to do either the right or the wrong thing…..

And how could Michelle call me self-centred? If any one of us is guilty of being self-centred, it’s certainly not me! How many times did she act selfishly and put us all in a situation where we all ended up looking like eejits?

The nun in detention, the job noticeboard, the crying statue, the funny scones, the Take That concert… well actually I’ll admit she was class in thinking up that scheme….  But then there was the fat boy slim concert…. Actually no, she was a genius in what she did there….

Alright, maybe I had a wee part to play in those things as well….

I know Niall’s her brother and all, but why can’t she see my point of view in this? This vote is about building a future, not just for us, but for future generations…… what does it teach future generations that you can go out and do something heinous, but in a few years’ time all will be forgotten?

I mean…. I am right to feel this way, right? God, I feel so confused right now…… Why do I fell guilty?

I’m not sure what hurts the most? Michelle calling me spoiled and walking out, or the fact that James walked out with her….. I could really do with one of his hugs right now. I want to see him, but if I go round there, I’m bound to get caught in the crossfire. In fact, the more I sit here thinking about it now….. what did that walkout mean? Did he just….. No…. STOP IT! I can’t think that! Surely it didn’t mean that…. GOD, I hope it didn’t mean that.

 And I understand family loyalty mor than anyone. I’ve lived with ORLA all my life for Christ’s sake! But surely there’s some sort of leeway when it comes to your girlfriend. Isn’t there?

Speaking of Orla, she was no help….. not that I was expecting her to do anything. Which reminds me, Michelle didn’t just walk out on me. She walked out on Orla as well! She knows Orla doesn’t do well when things get a wee bit tense.

I wonder where Orla is? Ach, no doubt she’s gone and taken Coco Pops for a wee walk. I think I’ll give Michelle a day to cool off. Sure, she’ll be grand after that. She’ll see things my way. Right?

I hope she does…… I really do want the Commitment at my party.

                Back in England, After finishing a brief phone call with Tony, Cathy Maguire walked over to the window of Tony’s flat and stood. Quietly observing the reunited mother and son as she watched Marco and Tracy walking back together from a walk in Wimbledon Common. The ramifications of the last few days finally hitting her. Despite the situation with the stolen tickets, she was extremely thankful that she’d gotten a chance to rebuild a foundation with her son. Their walk had been full of moments of questions and answers, and uncertainty and hope. Tracy shook with emotion as she held her son tight.

“Promise you won’t go looking for him. He’s just begging for someone to make his day.” Her voice barely a whisper, referring to Billy Foreman.

“I won’t, Mum.” Marco assured her, his own voice shaky with emotion. “Let’s change the subject, alright?”

“Yeah, alright.” Tracy agreed. She paused for a moment before speaking. “So…… what’s her name?” She asked timidly.

Marco spluttered a laugh. Knowing who his mum was asking about. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. He showed her the jovial picture of himself and Orla. Tracy then spluttered a laugh, not certain what to say.

“Her name’s Orla.” Marco said, his smile evident.

“She’s….. she’s pretty. Not a…. girly girl, is she?” Tracy stuttered. Marco noticed the way she treaded carefully.

“Not exactly….. But…. She’s…. she’s incredible.” He answered.

“The way you’ve gone on about her, she certainly sounds it.” Tracy chuckled. She hadn’t seen her son look so content in a long time when it came to talking about Orla. “Does she always smile like that?” Tracy hitched a slight chuckle.

“Yeah, all the time.” Marco smiled warmly at the photo.

Cathy smiled at their interaction. She then stepped away when the phone rang. She walked into the hallway and picked up the phone.

“Hello?”

“Mum?”

“James!.... Ye alright, love?” Cathy exclaimed happily.

“Yeah… I’m fine…. Uh… what you doing at Tony’s flat?”

Cathy stuttered for second. “Well, there’s a few things going on I need to tell ya about, love.” Cathy said, her voice sounding hesitant, but sincere.

“Things? What things?” James’ curiosity piquing.

“Well, something unexpected happened, James love. And….. Well, I’m not really sure how else to tell ya this….. But…… you see…..” Cathy stalled.

“Oh my God, Mum! What are you saying?..... Are you and Tony dating each other or something?!” James burst out suddenly.

“WHAT?! NO!!! Of course we’re not! Whatever gave ye that idea?!” Cathy exclaimed with shock.

“Oh…. Well, just the way you were…. It sounded like you were gonna …. Oh, never mind.” James answered awkwardly.

“I think you’ve been hanging round Michelle too much.” Cathy scoffed playfully.

“Sorry mum. I’m a bit all over the place. Is Marco there?” James asked.

“He’s…. well, he’s on his way up now. He’s in the middle of something. Why, what’s wrong love?” Cathy asked, hearing the tension in his voice.

“Well, I’m not sure how to say this…. Earlier, Erin and Michelle…. They…. Sort of…. Got into a fight over Niall.” James admitted. “You know, the whole Good Friday agreement thing, paramilitary prisoners and what not?” He hinted.

Cathy paused to take in what she heard. “Oh….. yeah I see.”

“And…. I sort of left the parish hall with Michelle, and left Erin and Orla by themselves.” He said sadly.

“Right? So, where’s the problem love? Ye stood by Michelle.” Cathy answered.

“Well yeah. But I’m a bit worried about how Erin took it. Not just her, Orla too. I mean of course I’ll stand by Michelle, but…..” James sounded very worried.

 “Yeah, I understand. It’s an awkward place to be in.” Cathy admitted.

James nodded in agreement. “Sort of see what Michelle meant now…. It’s bad Mum. I’ve never seen them like this before.” James said nervously.

“Awwww. I understand love. But listen, ya best not tell Marco right now.” Cathy advised.

“Why? What’s going on?” James asked. Before Cathy could answer. Marco and Tracy walked in. She motioned him over.

“Oh, he’s just here now…. Marco, James for ya, love…. Listen, James. I need to get back to work, I’ll ring you tonight OK. Just remember what I said.” Cathy advised.

“Yeah, Ok. Bye, Mum. Don’t tell him what I just said either, OK?” James said.

“My lips are sealed. I’ll just go home now and chat up the milkman. Bye love.” Cathy chuckled and handed the phone to Marco. Cathy said her goodbyes and walked out with Tracy. Leaving Marco by the phone.

“You alright, Jay? What was  that all about?” Marco asked.

James quickly shifted the subject. “Nothing, ‘Co. You alright? What’s been going on over there?”

“Huh, dunno where to start, mate.” Marco sighed heavily.

“Why? What you been up to? Haven’t gone Goodfellas and started a coke sideline, have you?” James chuckled.

“Yeah, you’d like that. Wouldn’t you?” Marco chuckled.

“Well, given what’s happened here, I could do with something to cheer Michelle up.” James answered.

“Why? What’d you do now?” Marco quipped.

“Nothing…. Anyway, you first.” James replied.

“Well, you know the tickets for the cup final?……. I ain’t got them no more.” Marco answered bluntly.

“What?”

                James’s expression changed constantly as listened intently while Marco recapped everything that had occurred. His mum moving to Spain and back again, buying the tickets for him, Billy stealing them, and holding them for ransom, along with their intense showdown only the night before along with their apparent reconciliation. James gasped slightly. Knowing how much their separation had affected Marco inside. There was a brief silence before James finally spoke.

“So…… it’s been quite a boring trip has it?” James attempted to humour him.  “Jesus Christ, mate….. What you gonna do?”

“I dunno. Just forget about it, I suppose.” Marco huffed glumly.

“What? Just like that? Come off it! That don’t sound like you. You can’t let him get away with that! Not after what that wanker did to you!” James said.

“Well, can’t think of anything right now.” Marco admitted.

“Well, anything’s better than just letting him break into your mum’s house and nicking the tickets!!! This is the FA Cup final we’re talking about here!!! If that was me, I wouldn’t let some prick get away with nicking my tickets!” James exclaimed.

“No, you’d just rip them up and run like a pussy.” A familiar voice came down the line. James rolled his eyes.

“Hi Michelle.” Marco said, sniggering slightly.

“How’s it been, ya wee prick? What’s Dicko crying about now?” She snapped.

“How much did you hear?” Marco asked.

“Only what Dicko was saying. What occurring?” Michelle asked.

“Oh, Oh nothing. Just James still moaning about Arsenal knocking out Crystal Palace.” Marco fibbed.

“Aye, I wish I never bought him that Derry City shirt now, ungrateful prick!” Michelle snapped. “Anyway, I gotta head out. Talk later motherfucker.” She hung up before he could say goodbye. James caught sight of Michelle coming down the stairs, giving him the middle finger before she stepped out.

“Well, at least she’s better than she was.” James admitted.

Marco faintly chuckled. “Why? What’s up with her?”

James went to speak but then remembered what his Mum had said. “Oh…. Nothing. So….. your Mum’s back in the picture is she?” James asking, shifting the subject. “Was she alright?”

“Well, I think she’s more annoyed with herself than anything, mate.” Marco said.

“Yeah, I can imagine. Is this guy actually mental?” James stressed.

“That’s not the word I’d use for ‘im. I think you got it right with Wanker.” Marco grumbled.

“Yeah, I bet…… Are you really gonna just let him walk away with your tickets? Come on, Marco. You always come up with something.” James encouraged him.

Marco shook his head in defeat. “I don’t know. Honestly, I can’t think of anything, James.…. Anyway, change the subject. What’s up with Michelle?” Marco asked again.

James struggled not to tell him. “Oh…. Well…. My mum told me not to say anything, but here goes… Erin and Michelle…. OOMPHH!!!” There was a loud commotion down the line.

“James?..... You alright?” Marco asked, he then smiled when he heard a familiar vice, and bark.

“IS THAT YOU CARE BEAR?!!!”

“Orla?! Hiya, babe. You alright?” Marco smiled, despite everything, hearing her voice cheered him up.

“I’m grand! I just bundled James! I got Coco Pops with me; we’re just out for a wee walk!” Orla said happily.

“Awww, cool. Is he alright?” Marco asked, her voice soothing him.

“Aye, he’s cracker!” Orla hummed happily while sitting on top of James.

“Orla! Can you get off me, please?” James groaned in the background.

“Yeah, let him up Orla. Erin might get jealous if she sees you on top of him.” Marco chuckled. Hearing her move off James. “Oh, I forgot to ask, what did Erin think about your theme idea for the party?” He asked.

“Well, I’ll not lie to ya. She wasn’t too keen on it. Can’t understand why. Monkeys-are-class.” Orla stressed.

Marco felt his lips tugging into a chuckle. “God, I really miss you, Orla.”

“Awwww. We miss ya too. I’m still counting the days.” Orla hummed with affection.

“Yeah, me too. Can’t wait to see you, and the others.” Marco agreed.

“Ach, wise up, Marco. You’re gonna be too busy at the football match to think about us….. Uh, by the way, ye better not forget about my giant Toblerone!” Orla giggled.

“….. It’s engraved on my heart.” Marco fibbed.

“Well, there’s no need to go that far. Just remember it for feck sake.” Orla huffed with confusion.

“Don’t worry, I won’t.” Marco sighed.

“Well, good. Listen. I’m gonna take James out with me for a walk with coco pops OK? Love ya.” Orla made a loud kissy noise down the phone.

Marco closed his eyes and smiled. “Yeah. Ok. Bye Orla…… love you too.” He answered, making her smile. “Oh, put James on for a sec. I wanna talk to him quickly.” Marco said. Orla handed the phone to James.

“Yeah mate?”

“Don’t say a word to her, James. OK?” Marco pleaded.

“Yeah….. alright. Talk to you later, alright?”

“Yeah. See ya bruv.”

As he hung up the phone, Marco let out a heavy sigh. He stood in the hallway when his Mum walked by.

“Do ya want a cuppa?” She asked.

“Yeah, go then, Mum.” He smiled faintly. She walked out into the kitchen.

As he walked into the living room. Desperate for a distraction, he turned on the TV. Flicking through Sky TV channels, he settled on watching on UK Gold, which was playing an episode of Only Fools and Horses. As he smirked at the antics of Del Boy and Rodney; The front door opened, and his dad walked in.

“Hiya. I just bumped into Cathy on the way up. She said that you and your mum have been…. having a chat?” Tony asked.

“Yeah….. guess you could say that…. I got a better understanding of things.” Marco admitted.

Tony took in what Marco said. He gave him a sympathetic smile and gave him a pat on the back. “Proud of you.” He said warmly. Knowing this would be a long road for them both.

Their attention was then drawn to the TV. Distracted from their problems for a moment. They laughed at the antics of the Trotter brothers, Del Boy and Rodney facing their nemesis Detective Roy Slater in the climax of the episode.

“I’ve never seen this episode. What’s it called?” Marco asked.

“Oh this one’s called ‘To Hull and back’. Del Boy goes over to Holland to fetch some dodgy diamonds for Boycie. But he’s gone over there with a briefcase full of fake money, and Slater there’s actually gonna cop the diamonds. It turns out, he’s actually one of the smugglers.”

“No way! Slater’s a bent copper!” Marco gasped.

“Yeah…. Watch.” Tony turned up the TV.

                Marco watched intently as the story unfolded; the unscrupulous detective Roy Slater revealing his role in a diamond smuggling ring to the Trotters, threatening them with jail unless they stayed silent. But only for him to find out that his fellow officers actually knew about his illegal activities all along and ended up getting arrested himself. An ironic end to a villainous copper.

The end came when Del Boy told Rodney that he managed to sneak away two of the diamonds they brought back. In typical ‘OFAH’ fashion, everything seemed to be on the up when Rodney added that he had managed to pick up their payment of £15000 before Slater did. Marco then gawped while Tony laughed as they watched Del Boy throw the wad of money out and over the balcony of their flat, believing it also to be fake money, despite Rodney’s insistence that it was real…. Only for Del Boy to jovially ask him in his legendary cockney accent.

“What do you think I am? Some sort of wally?”

 “What a plonker!” Tracy’s sniggering voice came from behind them. Tony and Marco spluttered a laugh with her. They then saw there was something on her mind. “Listen you two…. I’ve decided. I’m gonna try and offload my car to get the money for the tickets.”

“What?! No, you bloody won’t!” Tony snapped.

“Mum! Don’t! Just forget it. You’d never sell that car by tomorrow.” Marco chimed in.

“I know. I mean trade it for cash. Listen. I made this mess, I’m gonna clean it up.” Tracy insisted.

“You didn’t make this mess, Trace. He did!” Tony said, annoyed. “Also, do you honestly think he’s gonna stop there? If you give him this money, he’ll be back in a couple of months, and we’ll be right where we are now!” He argued.

“He might not. Also, what about the game?” Tracy said.

“No, I’m sorry Tracy. But I’ve gotta put my foot down! I’m not going to give that bastard what he wants! “Tony shouted.

Marco intervened before their voices ware raised even more. “Can you both please stop?!.... Mum, it doesn’t matter, anyway, it’s me that really wants to go…. So maybe…. Maybe if it means he pisses off, let’s just give it to him.” He resigned. Annoyed with himself that he actually said that.

“NO!” Tony boomed.

“Tony!....” Tracy tried to talk to him, but Tony was too enraged with the situation to listen. As his separated parents began to quarrel, it seemed that Billy Foreman was getting what he wanted anyway.

Marco excused himself and went into the kitchen. It felt as if nothing seemed to have changed. Raised voices were a staple in the Galluci house when he was growing up, but not like this. Marco knew there was no way in Hell his dad was going to cave in to Billy Foreman, admittedly, neither would he….. But how else could they get the tickets back? Marco caught sight of the Christmas photograph on the side of the fridge. He smiled sadly at the smiling faces of his Nanna and Nonno looking back at him as the kettle boiled, Marco felt the heavy weight sitting on his chest. Wanting so badly to just go and find the man and have it out with him. But he knew that would do no good either, not really.

He then wondered about everyone back in Derry. He wondered how they would react to the fact that he’d re-established some type of connection with his mum. He then hoped that James wouldn’t tell Orla about his predicament. But just as he thought about James mentioning something happening between Erin and Michelle; something …...occurred.

A sudden thought dropped and began to grow like a ripple on a still pond. Marco’s gaze became distant, his mind warring with this sudden thought, but then, the resignation hit him that there was too much risk for such an idea. Or was there? There seemed no other alternative. Despite how he and his Dad felt, Marco felt that he would have to fork out the obscene amount of money Billy wanted if he truly wanted to go to the FA Cup final.

                The next day; In a corner of the Victoria Arms pub. A man of average height, with light brown dishevelled hair and scraggy beard sat nervously on his own. He scowled as he glanced around the pub. He was waiting for someone to arrive. He snorted rapidly through his nose as he clenched his mobile phone in his hand. He had been pacing throughout the day since he got the phone call from Tracy that they would meet him to make the exchange, the tickets for the money. £5000. His wrist shook as he checked his watch for the umpteenth time; he reached for the small glass on the table that was now empty. He then glanced at the big clock, 5pm. He then made his way to the bar. The shifty man grew more and more agitated as the seconds went by, which felt like hours.

The man was Billy Foreman

                Billy snatched the new filled glass and quickly downed his third whiskey. His throat burned as he then marched towards the pub doors. Pushing them open wildly, he snorted with frustration as he stepped outside and scanned the area, with no sign. Then his mobile phone rang.

“Tracy?!” Billy snapped into the phone.

“No, it’s your cab driver you dickhead!.... Where the FUCK are you?!” The man snapped back.

“Yeah, alright mate. Calm down. I’m just waiting for someone. 10 -15 more minutes, alright?” Billy leered.

“Alright, fine.” The answer came. Billy hung up. He looked around again with a grimace. He then turned and walked back inside the pub.

Down the road, Billy had been observed by the Galluci family. They sat together in Tony’s black cab. The young man had clapped eyes on Billy Foreman for the first time since the day he picked up his apprenticeship letter. A familiar tremor shot up his spine, as if his former scars had somehow resurfaced. Tracy reached and held his hand for support, seeing Marco’s heavy expression. Feeling the same apprehension that they would have to face him. Even more so that they were going to seemingly cave in to his demands for the sake of getting the tickets back.

“Are you sure you wanna do this?” Tracy asked.

Marco felt his hand shaking. He glanced at his dad, who returned a look of uncertainty. Marco then turned to his Mum. “Yeah….. Come on. Let’s go.” He went to move but then stopped. “What?” He asked.

“I still don’t think we should this. What if something goes wrong?” Tony suddenly.

“Dad…. Don’t worry about that.” Marco hesitated.

Tracey sighed with resignation. “Your Dad has a point. What if he’s already sold the tickets to someone else? What if he’s just chucked them or ripped them up? Or he takes the money and runs away?..... What?” she asked, noticing Marco’s half smirk.

“You just sounded like my friend, Clare, that’s all. Mum….. we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it…. IF….. OK?.... Come on. Let’s just get it over with.” Marco stepped out of the car, Tony quickly followed.

Tracy took a shaky breath and followed. The Galluci family stepped into the pub which was half full of locals with warm golden lights shining from hanging chandeliers, with ‘Virtual Insanity’ playing in the background while a distinct smell of cigarette smoke and stale beer hung in the air. Tony took a seat in one of the wooden oak cubicles, holding back. The bar top was accessible to everyone in the seating area, like the Queen Vic pub in Eastenders.

As Tracy and Marco turned the corner, they saw Billy Foreman staring coldly from his table. His eyes glancing between Tracy and Marco, who felt his chest tense up as he stared back coldly at his former tormentor. They saw Billy’s hands twitching with anticipation as they approached him. Billy then narrowed his eyes.

“Well, look who it is…. Little mugsy’s back with mumsy.” Billy jeered. “You fancy yourself now, do ya, you little mug?” He jeered again.

Marco’s blood boiled but Tracy stopped him. A pub brawl was the last thing they needed. “It’s alright love. Go sit round the corner with your Dad, I’ll take care of it.” She said, her voice shaking.

“Yeah, go on, listen to mummy. Go sit down you useless streak of piss.” Billy gibed. Tracy scowled as she walked over, sitting opposite Billy. Marco began to slowly walk back.

Billy then snapped his fingers. “Oi, mugsy!” He called out, catching Marco’s attention. “Actually…… go get us a drink and be sharpish. I’ll have a nice ENGLISH ale!” Billy sneered.

“Will you stop it Billy?! I’m here, aren’t I? Let’s just get this over with.” Tracy snapped.

Marco felt a red mist slowly begin to descend on him. A feeling he hadn’t felt since his altercation with Billy from over two years ago. His chest tightened so much he felt like he could explode at any second. Tracy motioned him to walk away. Marco took a deep breath and walked round to the cubicle where Tony was sitting.

“You alright?” Tony asked. Marco could only stifle his heavy breath. Tony felt the same anger stew inside him, seeing his son look so restless. “Just think of something else.” He advised.

Marco closed his eyes. He searched for something to anchor him. He found it….. His grandparents….. Orla…. James….. Erin….. Michelle….. Clare…. Derry…… the families….. Joe McCool’s words.

“Let it go, son… Let it go.” Marco breathed.

Around the other side of the pub, Billy continued to goad Tracy. “Bout bloody time you turned up. I told you what time my flight was! What was it? Tony try to talk you out of it? Wouldn’t surprise me, the fat eyetye pussy!”  

Tracy snapped at him. “Why don’t you just leave him alone! You really love this, don’t you?” She grimaced.

“Oh, Shut up you flamin’ moo! You reckon I’ve come ‘ere to listen to you rabbit on? …. You got the money or what?” Billy snapped, his eyes bulging.

Tracy shivered as she spoke. “…..You got the tickets?” She asked back. Billy pulled out the envelope holding the tickets. Tracy recognised it instantly, which was one relief. At least they were still intact. “Marco’s got the money….. He took it out the bank earlier today.” Tracy revealed, her voice shaking.

“Yeah, I know he did….. I saw ‘im.” Billy sneered.

Tracy now looked anxious and confused. “You…. Y-you…..saw him?”

Billy leaned across the table. “There ain’t nowhere he’s been that I don’t know about…. Just had to make sure he didn’t get any funny ideas.”

“What funny ideas?” Tracy grimaced.

“You know what I mean…. Reckons he can talk his way out of a room with no doors, he does. Well, all I know is that little shit stain is gonna pay over the odds for these things for what he did to me.” Billy sneered arrogantly, pointing at himself.

Tracy shook her head in disbelief. “For what he did to you?! Oh, my gawd, you really can’t let it go, can you? You bear a score against Marco cos he knocked you spark out after everything you did to him?!.....”

Bily began to get angry. “You know me well enough, Trace. I don’t have no one give me any lip, girl…. No one! Someone gives me lip; they get a good ‘ard slap!” Billy hissed.

Tracy’s blood ran cold. She took a deep breath, then she spoke.

“A good ‘ard slap?! You bullied Marco all that time, then you took your belt to him when he fought back….. you sold me on all that crap about a better life in Spain…. and I let myself believe you…. While all you  did was drive a wedge between me and him because of it…. You then racked up all those debts in my name….. then knocked me about cos I saw you for what you really are?..... and you got the nerve to sit there…..  and act like a victim when all Marco did was give you what YOU had coming?! I made a lot of mistakes in my life, Billy, but Marco wasn’t one of them! You were!” Tracy snapped angrily. But Billy just sniggered.

“Oh, so you’re whiter than white now, are you? I don’t need no lecture from some slag!..... You wanted that life in Spain, and you could’ve had it if you listened to me!.... I knew you was getting cold feet when that little bastard of yours trapsed off to Ireland….. Maybe I should’ve given him a better seeing to….. At least I gave ‘im the whipping your ex didn’t have the balls to give ‘im! Didn’t I?..... Then again, he didn’t exactly have the ‘minerals’ to get you pregnant, did he?! That’s why you went and got yourself knocked up by some other greasy eyetye, but then he made the smart move and popped his clogs, rather than bring up that worthless bastard of yours.” Billy cackled.

“YOOOU….!!!!!!” Tracy lunged across the table to try and reach Billy. Who shot out of his seat to dodge her.

“NO MUM!” Marco wrapped his arms round her and pulled her back. “It’s alright, Mum. Calm down. Calm down.” He repeated to her softly, Tracy glared at Billy with anger, who simply sniggered. He then saw the cold stare from Tony. But the man had no scruples.

“Don’t think about growing a set, Tony. I’ve got witnesses” Billy warned him, waving his finger towards the locals.

Tony glared coldly. “Don’t tempt me, Billy…. There’s a cricket bat in my cab that’s not been used for a while.”

“Ah. Ah Ah. One move….” Billy sneered. taunting them with the tickets.

Tony shook his head with anger. “You know you’re just lucky my mama passed away without knowing what you did!”

“Oh, Don’t make me laugh with that poxy mafia cobblers, you greasy eyetye muppet!” Billy laughed.

Tony scowled. “Look, Billy. I know you’re just dying to piss off back to Spain, and we’d rather you go crawl back under that rock you came out from, so how about you stop pissing about and let’s get this sorted, or did you forget you had a plane to catch?”

Billy’s smirk disappeared; he checked his watch. “Fine…. But you best know, Tony. You might wanna get that slag checked by a doctor. She might have another bastard on the way for you to bring up!” He cackled.

Tony then raged and lunged at Billy, but Marco stopped his Dad before he could get to him.

“No, Dad! Don’t..... it’s alright….. I’ve got this.” Marco said calmly. “Please, just take care of Mum. Alright?” He pleaded.

“Oi! Is there a problem ‘ere?!” The bar tender called over, noticing the commotion. Some of the locals turned to see what was happening. Billy hesitated at first.

“No…. No problem. Just having a nice chat.” Billy smiled insincerely. The bar tender shot him a look before going back to serving the customers.

Billy smiled arrogantly as he watched Tony walk away with Tracy, seemingly feeling like he had everything in hand, but his smirk quickly disappeared when he caught Marco’s gaze. He hadn’t been this close to him since….. the ‘incident’. Clearly something was different. In the two plus years since their altercation that left Billy humiliated, Marco was broader than he was at 16. But it was the young man’s calm exterior that made a shiver travel up his spine. As if he wasn’t intimidated by Billy.

Marco, meanwhile, felt something different. The initial tension of being so close to Billy again wasn’t there. The anger he felt for everything he’d said to his Mum and Dad also began to fade away. For everything Billy had done to him and his parents….. Somehow, the thought of everyone back in Derry and everything they had done for him steered him away from the chilling memory of the pathetic man who now stood in front of him; the red mist wasn’t there anymore. Marco exhaled a steady breath as he sat down while Billy searched to regain his former arrogance.

“Yeah, I didn’t think you had the balls to swing at me again. Right. Sit down…… Let’s have a chat.” Billy ordered.

“I’m…. already sitting.” Marco pointed out calmly.

Billy planted himself in haste. “Right, no more pissing about…. You got the money for these things?” He asked desperately, gritting his teeth.

Marco slowly pulled out a brown envelope, but he kept it close. Billy’s expression was tense, and greed filled.

“Let me see the tickets first.” Marco then demanded.

Billy paused, but then quickly yanked out the envelope from his pocket, he pulled the tickets from the envelope, producing them. All three of them were attached together.

“Hold on….. Let me see it.” He said suspiciously.

“See what?”

“See what… the receipt, you muppet! The bank would have given you one for a withdrawal that big!” Billy snapped.

Marco sighed with resignation. Sounding almost like a sigh of defeat, which eased Billy’s desperation. He presented a folded A4 sheet of paper from the HSBC bank. It showed a transaction of a bank transfer from Derry to London for the sum of £5000. Marco slid the receipt away once Billy had read it. His smile got bigger and bigger as he felt more at ease.

“Open the envelope. I wanna see it.” He ordered.

Marco stared blankly at him before he opened the sealed envelope. Billy’s breath hitched as he saw the sight of a large stack of £20 notes in front of him. Held together by a red currency band. Marco swallowed hard as he now felt his heart pounding so hard in his chest, it sounded like a drumbeat in his ears. Billy went to reach for the money, but Marco pulled back slightly. They both realized they had to ‘trust’ the other at this particular point. Billy dropped his guard and offered the tickets first. Marco returned the gesture, gripping the tickets and money respectively. They completed the exchange.

Billy quickly hunched over and inspected the contents of the envelope. Pulling the money out. A wave of excitement came over him as he rapidly ran his thumb over the stack of money like a flip book. Marco inspected the tickets. The reflector stamps and stubs of authenticity were there. These were genuine. The credit card purchase receipt was still attached at the end. He breathed out a sigh of relief. He had the tickets for the FA cup final.

“Is it all here?” Billy asked in haste.

“What? Can’t you count that high?” Marco asked sarcastically.

“Yeah…. And I’ll count it all once I’m out in Spain……Oi?!” Billy snapped with frustration.

“What?” Marco asked calmly.

He saw the grimace Billy was shooting him. Billy tucked the envelope in his coat. He got up from his seat and stood over Marco with a scowling expression. A memory flashed in Marco’s mind as the man tried to make himself look bigger, yet Marco didn’t flinch.

“Don’t you get any ideas about looking for me….. Cos you ain’t gonna find me….. And if I have anyone try to follow me, or try to nick this off me, I’ll come down on you worse than I did two years ago…..D’you hear me?!..... What? You got something to say to me, boy?!” Billy continued to jibe, raising his voice. But he wasn’t getting what he wanted from Marco. A reaction.

Marco remained still. He furrowed his eyes and simply regarded the man. “I know what you want from me, Billy. But I don’t need this…. I’ve got too much to throw away now. And you ain’t worth it.” He said.

His answer seemed to aggravate Billy. “Oh what? That little chef thing you got goin’ on?” He laughed. “You think that’s some sort of career or something? What? You think that flipping burgers and shit like that makes you better than me or something?!”

“I would imagine being Adolf Hitler would be a step up from being you.” Marco shot.

Billy became more agitated, unable to make him react. “Well, here’s some free advice, boy..... You’re gonna crash and burn, and I’m just sad I ain’t gonna be there when it happens. Cos I’m done with ya! At least until I need a bit more… capital. All I need to do is swing by your mum’s house and I’m sure she’ll…. welcome me back with open arms…. Or just open her legs.” Billy sneered.

Marco got up from his chair, glaring at the man. Tony and Tracy could see the situation reaching a fever pitch. They quickly made their way towards them. Meanwhile, Billy began to back up towards the exit door. Sneering at him.

“Yeah? Gonna swing at me now, boy?” He taunted.

“Come on then, John Wayne!….. Wanna take your belt off just to make it even?” Marco shot back, standing his ground firmly. Billy flinched.

“Ahhhh you’re not worth it! You are! Says the mug who just spent 5 grand on bunch of football tickets! Well, I hope they get thumped by those Geordies on Saturday! Just pray I don’t come back anytime soon. Cos while you’re back in Ireland, your mum might be in the next time I call round. See ya around, ya little tosser.” Bily cackled as he bolted out the door, leaving Marco where he stood.

                Billy sprinted down the road in haste, glancing around to make sure he wasn’t being followed. He spotted the cab he had waiting for him.

“About bloody time, mate. Right, where to now?” The cab driver asked.

“Heathrow airport!” Billy gasped with heavy breaths. “’Ere….. ‘ere you go, mate. For your trouble so far.” He said cheerily as he handed the cab driver one of the notes. The cab drove away. Billy reclined in the backseat. He felt a sense of utter elation as the cab drove further and further away from the pub.

“I gotcha….. I gotcha, you little tosser.” He whispered to himself, proudly.

                Marco stood still. He looked down and gazed at the tickets in his hand. He had them. He really had them. The word Arsenal and the image of the FA Cup planted in the middle. He then felt the presence of Tony and Tracy standing with him. His parents stared blankly at him.

“So….. you did it, did you?” Tracy asked. “You got the tickets?”

“Yeah.” Marco said softly, holding them up.

“And he took the money?” Tony asked.

“Yeah, he just left…...” Marco answered.

Tony and Tracy looked at each other, and then back at Marco. Their blank stares suddenly broke into wide smiles. Unable to hold it in anymore. Marco spluttered and then erupted, cracking up with laughter. His parents cracked as well. The Galluci family cheered together for the first time in a long time. They jovially embraced each other as Marco showed them the re-acquired tickets for the FA cup final.

“He took it. He actually took it?!” Tracy asked, completely elated.

“Couldn’t move fast enough!” Marco laughed.

“Bloody hell! He won’t need to catch a plane, the way he went flying out the door! Greedy bastard.” Tony chuckled loudly.

“..’ere…. How long till you think he’ll clock?” Tracy asked, her voice a mixture of anticipation and almost excitement.

“Well, with any luck, not till he’s over in Spain.” Tony answered.

Tracy shook her head in pleasant disbelief. “I’ve got to ask, Marco. how did you come up that?” She asked, smiling.

“Oh, we’ve got all night to talk about it. Come on. Let’s get out of here. I’ve booked us a table at Alfonso’s place. You haven’t gone by to see him yet.” Tony pointed out to Marco.

The young man smiled. Nodding in agreement. “Yeah, fair point. Hold on though. I just wanna call Cathy.” He said.

                Tony handed Marco his mobile. He walked on with Tracey, who was truly elated that they got the tickets back, and that Billy was gone. Marco paused outside the pub and rang Cathy’s number. The excitement pulsed through him at the realization that he was now truly going to Wembley. As he put the phone to his ear, he heard that Cathy’s line was engaged. He shrugged it off, choosing to call her again. He wondered briefly if it was James she was on the phone to. He then remembered that James hadn’t told him about some apparent situation between Erin and Michelle. He started to wonder what it could be. But then he was jolted into jogging down the road when he heard his Dad toot his cab horn.

“Yeah, coming Dad!” He called.

                Meanwhile, Cathy sat at home and listened intently to James as he told her about what had happened at the parish hall between Erin and Michelle.

“It’s bad, Mum. It’s…. it’s really bad.” He said sadly, but quietly so Michelle wouldn’t hear him.

Chapter Text

It was now the day of Erin and Orla’s 18th party. Orla had spent the night sleeping in her monkey onesie. Waking up early as always, she shook uncontrollably with excitement while she stared at the ceiling, her eyes bulging, her smile tugging so tight as she mulled over everything. The preparation, the party, the monkeys, the presents, ‘The Commitment’…… She then came crashing down to earth. She frowned sadly when she remembered that The Commitment had pulled out of the party following Erin and Michelle’s fallout.

Orla brushed off the intrusive thought. She looked over towards her desk. She had secretly created a giant collage of photographs that she’d taken of herself and the gang into one giant montage. She had been working on it for ages. No one knew about it. She’d fashioned and decorated the large odd shaped, self-made frame out of melted and moulded plastic with shiny sweet wrappers from Quality Street, among other sweets.

Orla smiled proudly at her creation. The multitude of pictures of her and her friends from the previous few years made her smile. Her eyes darted at every single picture, every smile, memory after memory. She thought about the Fatboy Slim song-Praise You. They truly had come a long way together, hard times and good. The situation between Erin and Michelle was certainly not a ‘good time’.

She then thought back to a chat she had with James while taking Coco Pops for a walk. James sadly told her that he couldn’t come to the party mostly because he couldn’t leave Michelle on her own, given the circumstances. They spent that afternoon sitting on her favourite swings where she and Marco had sat on many occasions. They reflected on the hostility between their respective cousins. Orla rested her head on James’ shoulder, knowing how much it upset him that Erin and Michelle were at each other’s throats.

“I’m really sorry, Orla.” James said sadly.

“It’s alright, James. I understand. Family loyalty. So, does that mean ya gonna go to Jenny’s party instead?”

“Well…. That’s what Michelle wants to do. I think she’s just doing it to spite Erin. God, I hope Erin doesn’t lose her shit over it.” James groaned.

“Hmm…… Yer sorta in that same spot that Fredo fella was in the Godfather…. Remember when he took sides against the family, and then his brother found out and blew his brains out.”

James shuddered at her unique comparison. “Well, that’s really cheered me up.”

“Ach, catch yourself on, James. I just havin’ a craic with ya. Erin doesn’t even have a gun….. That I know of….” Orla said nonchalantly.

“Oh, thanks Orla. That’s a great help!” James groaned.

Orla smiled at James’ nervous expression. She leaned in and hugged his arm. “If ya do go, will ye have a wee pony ride for me?”

“I’d probably look ridiculous going round Jenny’s garden on a horse.” James admitted.

“Well, I’ll not lie to ya, James. There’s not many things ye do where you don’t look like a complete dose.” Orla shot innocently.

James spluttered at her cheeky grin. “I could strangle Marco for teaching you to be sarcastic….. Yeah OK. I’ll have one for you.”

“Thanks, James.” Orla’s expression then changed.

“What’s wrong, Orla?” James asked, noticing her frown.

“I don’t like it when we’re split up like this.” Orla admitted sadly.

“I know…. Me neither.” James agreed. He rested his head on Orla’s.

“Do ya think they’ll sort things before Saturday?” Orla asked hopefully.

James paused. “I don’t know…… I hope so.” He frowned. Orla glanced at him.

“…. Don’t take this wrong, James. But your expression doesn’t exactly fill me with confidence.” Orla admitted. “In fact, ye look like a right miserable English pri-“

“Yeah, OK. Thanks Orla.” James cut in. He spluttered a laugh as he saw her giggling.

“I’m just saying what Michelle would say if we were all together.” Orla sighed.

“Well, you’re doing a bloody good job of it.” James huffed.

“Ach, thanks.” Orla hummed happily. The wee English fella cracked a smile, despite the situation, he could always count on Orla to make him smile.

Orla came out of the memory. She looked up and smiled fondly at a picture of herself and James, one of her bestest friends. She then smiled at a picture of herself and Marco. Orla suddenly reached for a black felt tip pen and began to draw the outline of his new glasses on the photograph. Her eyes went dreamy. As she regarded her work, she could feel something familiar stirring deep within her. Something she’d been thinking about before and during his absence. something private, something cheeky. It was a welcome distraction for her as she felt her lips tug into a mischievous grin. She felt her body tensing, and her fingers tingled with anticipation over what she was thinking about. Orla let out a shaky breath, nodding encouragingly to herself, smiling.

“Knock knock?” Orla jumped out of her private thoughts. She turned and smiled to see Granda Joe poking this head around her bedroom door.

“Morning Granda!” Orla beamed.

“Morning birthday girl. Not too old for ya birthday hug are ye now?” Joe teased.

“Awwww never! It’s one of my favourite bits!” Orla yelped happily. She moved without hesitation, wrapping her arms around Granda Joe and felt him lift her up ever so slightly off her feet.

“A lot bigger now.” Joe regarded, feeling her grip tighten. “My god. Where’s the time gone?” He asked, reflecting on the past. “I’ve been sent to fetch ya. Yer Aunt Mary’s making breakfast.”

“Ach, class! Thanks, Granda.”

“By the way…... no word to anyone. This is from me.” He whispered. Orla’s eyes shot wide open as Granda Joe handed her a wrapped present. She quickly opened it to find a pair of yellow hiking boots. She inhaled slowly as her expression grew wider with jubilance.

“Whoa!!!!!! Oh my god! They are soooo class! Aw Thanks, Granda!” She wrapped her arms round him, giving him a tight hug.

“You’re welcome, love.” Joe smiled.

Meanwhile, Erin sat in her room by herself. With the news that ‘The Commitment’ was now a non-feature for their party. Erin was determined to make the best of a bad situation, although she wouldn’t admit that things had really declined to a very… crap situation. Still not sure about whether James would come to the party, Erin decided had she wouldn’t be the one to drag her wee English fella in between her and Michelle. Although she had noticed that James had not called round to see her, he had only sent cautious messages through Orla.

The notes of affection, as sweet as they were; didn’t bring Erin any comfort from the guilt she was also feeling. She looked down at the claddagh ring around her neck. It matched the one that James had bought. It was a private act of friendship between them before they started dating. Now more than ever, she could have done with just the feel of his hand intwined with hers. As stubborn as she was. Erin could hear herself thinking that she wished Michelle was coming to her party. Her sad disposition was interrupted by a knock on her bedroom door.

“Erin? …… Erin?”

“…… What is it, Daddy?”

“Yer Mam said come downstairs, breakfast is ready.”

“…… I’m not really hungry.” Erin called, choking back slightly.

“Well, ya gonna need something inside you, Erin.” Gerry advised. “You alright, love?” He asked.

“Fine! I’m fine, Daddy. I’ll be down in a wee bit.” Erin huffed sadly, dodging the question.

Meanwhile, James sat by his lonesome in the Mallon living room. He was missing Erin immensely. He gazed down at the same claddagh ring that was around his neck. He felt the guilt knotting in his stomach as he thought about the fact that he was going to go with Michelle to Jenny Joyce’s party instead of Erin and Orla’s. He watched as Michelle was putting a brave face on things but knew deep down that she was just avoiding the situation. The feisty Mallon proudly proclaimed she was going to wear the “resurrected” evening gown she had worn and ruined at the 50s prom. She thought she was being discreet, but James could see the confliction spread across Michelle’s face. Her mind darted between her, missing her friend and sticking up for her brother.

                He quickly lightened his expression when Michelle bumped him as she slumped next to him on the sofa.

“What ye watching, dick face?” Michelle asked.

“Just…. Watching the start of the FA cup final.” James said.

“Thought you said the kick off wasn’t till 3 o’clock?” Michelle pointed out.

“It is, they just….. highlight the road to the final and talk about previous winners. It’s an all-day thing. It’s a really big thing in England.” James explained.

Michelle stared aimlessly at the TV for only a few seconds. “Jesus! But your lot are a bunch of boring pricks! Thank God for Marco’s sake he doesn’t have to sit through this shite show. Come on. Let’s go for a dander.” Michelle shot up from the sofa.

“Yeah….. Yeah, lucky him.” James sighed, wishing in that moment that he was on his way to Wembley.

                Ironically, both James and Marco were aware of what the other had been enduring. Cathy had taken a moment to let Marco know everything about Erin and Michelle following the part she played in Marco’s scheme against Billy Foreman. The young Italian pondered on what he might encounter when he got back to Derry. But the occasion of the FA cup final pushed the situation aside for the time being. The past few days had been a tremendous emotional roller coaster. Marco wasn’t sure what he was more thrilled about. The easy answer would have been that he’d thwarted Billy Foreman without raising a fist.

The outcome of that situation was still unknown. But as each day went by, Marco felt more content with the fact that he truly enjoyed spending time with his parents without any worry of a spat, or row between them. The family had gone sightseeing together around London, along with meeting Alfonso at the restaurant during the evenings. Marco laughed at his reaction when he told him that ‘little Fratelli’ was now called Coco Pops. He especially revelled in telling everyone about the shenanigans of the girls. Including the ones he hadn’t been a part of. He felt embarrassed when Tony had told them about his new glasses. Saying his goodbyes to everyone, Marco finally showed his glasses to his mum Tracy while making their way to Wembley.

“Oh, there’s nothing wrong with them. They look good on you.” Tracy said.

“You think that’s something. You should see his tattoo.” Tony then said.

“Tattoo?! What tattoo?!” Tracy cried with shock.

“Thanks, Dad.” Marco rolled his eyes as he pulled down his t-shirt, showing his Mum the ‘bear claw’ tattoo Orla had designed for him.

“Oh, my Gawd!” Tracy gawped, shaking her head in a playful disbelief.

“Yeah, bit bigger than those stick on transfers he used to get.” Tony laughed glancing into his rear-view mirror. “Oi Oi! There it is!” He cried. Marco’s breath caught in his throat as the twin towers of Wembley Stadium finally came into view.

Later that day, the ongoing coverage of the Good Friday agreement was broadcast on the TV in the Quinn house. In the kitchen, Mary felt the impending discovery about the parish hall loom over her more while she got things ready. Erin was upstairs getting herself ready, while Orla was downstairs in the living room. She switched the channel over to ITV. She was completely oblivious to the conversation taking place a few feet away from her. The Quinn family listened intently while Mary dished out the newest gossip which Deidre had filtered through from her sister, Cathy.

“Are ye serious, Mary?” Sarah asked.

“No lie. Deidre said so herself. From what Cathy told her, it was….. well, intense is a mild way of putting it.” Mary revealed.

“Aye, not gonna lie. If that were me, I’d certainly give her a piece of my mind.” Sarah agreed.

“Really?” Gerry asked.

“Very much so. I’ve seen a picture of Marco’s Mam, and I’m not sure the pixie cut suits her.” Sarah answered.

Mary rolled her eyes. “For the love of God.”

“I think Mary was leaning more towards the fact that the lad’s mother shot off to Spain with the fella that beat him up, Sarah!” Gerry stressed.

“Giving you ideas, is it now?! Why don’t ye just come out and admit it?!” Joe snapped.

“Admit what, exactly?” Gerry asked.

“I bet that’s why you’re such a tight wad, isn’t it, Gerry? Stashing money on the side so you can slip away in the dead of night with your fancy woman!” Joe glared at Gerry with suspicion.

“Jesus Christ! Did ya watch Sleeping with the Enemy again, Joe?” Gerry stressed.

“Don’t start, Da!” Mary shot.

Just then Cousin Eammon wandered into the kitchen. “Uh, Gerry! I just thought I’d take the auld car down the petrol station and get her filled up for later.”

“Fine Eammon. Just don’t fill it with diesel like ya did with ya own car!” Gerry stressed.

“Ach, Gerry. What do ya take me for?” Eammon chuckled, walking towards the front door.

Gerry then realized what he just said. “Ach, for Christ’s sake! Eammon! Wait for me!” Gerry darted after him in a panic.

Joe shook his head as Gerry ran out. “Prick.”

“So, what happened next Mary? Sarah asked.

“Well Deidre said that there was some type of….. problem.” Mary said gingerly.

“Problem? What problem?” Joe asked.

“Cathy told Deidre that this Billy fella broke into her house and stole the tickets.” Mary revealed with regret.

Joe and Sarah stared blankly. “The sly Bastard!” Joe grimaced angrily.

“Shhhh. Da!.... Orla!” Mary whispered.

“Ach…… That lad doesn’t seem to catch a break. Ya could make an entire storyline on Coronation Street with the drama he’s gone through.” Sarah stressed sadly.

“Shhhh, keep it down. I don’t want the wains worrying.” Mary paused.

“What else happened, Mary?” Sarah asked.

“Well, the upside is that Marco and his Mam seemed to patch some things up through all this. But I don’t know anything more.” Mary answered.

Joe took the news in. “Ah. Well, I suppose that’s something. James must know what’s occurring for sure. Why hasn’t he been round?” He asked.

“I couldn’t get more out of her with what’s been occurred between our Erin and Michelle….. I didn’t think it wise to press her. Probably explains why he’s not been round…. Anyway, we best get ourselves moving.” Mary sighed heavily. Going about her business.

“What is it, Da?” Sarah asked. Noticing Joe’s heavy expression.

“Ach nothing, love. Just thinking about the wains…. I know why those two fell out. Orla told me. Just thinking about the past, and how it affects the present…. I just hope they can get past this….. Plus, the thing with Marco now….. I know how much he was looking forward that game, but for that prick to come and snatch it away from him….. We best not tell Orla, don’t upset her.” Joe said quietly

“Aye, good point Daddy. Let her know after when he comes back. It’s her day, and Marco wouldn’t want her to worry.” Sarah agreed.

“I SEE ‘IM!!!!! OH MY GOD, I SAW ‘IM!!!!!!” A cry came from the living room. Joe and Sarah jumped. Mary shot round.

“See who, Orla love?” Sarah called.

“Orla, what are ya going on about?” Erin asked. Coming into the living room.

“I SAW ‘IM!” Orla cried happily.

“Saw who?” Erin asked.

“Marco!!!!! I just saw him in the crowd!” Orla pointed towards the TV.

“Are ye sure ye saw him, Orla?” Joe asked.

“I’m positive, Granda!” Orla beamed.

Erin rolled her eyes, glancing at the TV. The FA cup final was being broadcast on ITV. “And how do ye expect to spot him amongst…. How many people does Wembley hold again?”

“Oooooh……. about 80000 people.” Orla stated.

“Right…… so do’ya not think it’s gonna be a wee bit tricky to pick him out amongst 80000 people?” Erin’s face strained as she spoke.

“I got eyes like a hawk, Erin. I know my Bear when I see him!” Orla insisted.

“Aye, eyes of a hawk, speed of a whippet, have ye ever thought about applying for a disabled badge?” Erin shot.

“Less of the cheek, Erin.” Mary snapped. “Come on now. We’ll be heading off soon.”

“Oh, I must say Erin. Ye look dapper in yer outfit, love.” Sarah commented.

“Aye, thanks, Aunt Sarah.” Erin answered cautiously.

Erin: “Michelle's not speaking to me, and now The Commitment's pulled out. The Lack Of Commitment, that's what she should call herself.”

Orla: “That's not as catchy.”

Erin: “I don't care. Her voice isn't even that good. We don't need The Commitment, and we don't need Michelle. This party is gonna be amazing, with or without them….. What the hell?..... What is going on?..... Where are all the literary greats?”

Orla: “What happened to my monkeys?”

Meanwhile, in Strabane. Clare readied herself.

Time to get the band back together…..Purse, check…… Lip gloss, check….. Hubba Bubba, check…. Ulster bus timetable...shit!!!!.......

MAMMY! HAVE YOU SEEN THE ULSTER BUS TIMETABLE?! AAARGGHHHHHHH!!!!!!!  

“YAAAAAAARGHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!”

“It’s Anelka!!! It’s a goal!!!! It’s 2-0 to Arsenal!!!!! With 20 minutes left to play. The Premier League Champions are on the verge of completing the double!”

The roar of the Arsenal supporters enveloped the Galluci Family as they cheered in celebration. The final 20 minutes felt like it went on for an eternity. But eventually, with no comeback from Newcastle United materializing. The final whistle finally blew, fading amongst the noise of utter jubilation. Tony and Tracy hugged their son as Marco lost himself with the triumphant cheer of the crowd who danced and hailed the conquering heroes as they saw football history being made. His childhood team had just won the FA Cup.

Marco reached for his mum, and the trials and tribulations from the past few years were washed away in the moment. Her gift to him brought him to tears as he embraced her. Tony smiled emotionally the family shed tears of joy as they felt the same feeling that maybe, just maybe, they had found hope through their family tradition of following ‘The Gunners’.

“Thanks, Mum. Thanks, Dad!” Marco cried happily. Tracy could only smile as he held him. Tony drew their attention to the presentation. Tony Adams, the Arsenal captain took the FA Cup and threw it aloft.

“YAAAAAAARGHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!”

 The roar of the singing crowd eventually began to fade as the Galluci family walked further and further away from the stadium and the dispersing crowd. Climbing back into Tony’s black cab, they were able to bypass the congestion of the exiting traffic surrounding Wembley via the bus lanes. As they made their way towards Heathrow Airport, the family reflected on the day, and the many other times they’d gone to Highbury to see Arsenal in the past. While Tony drove; Tracy spotted the concerned expression on Marco’s face.

“You alright, sweetheart?” Tracy asked.

“Yeah, just….. just…. thanks, Mum.” Marco sighed heavily.

“Come here, love.” She wrapped an arm round him. Tony smiled at the sight of them together. “Thanks for giving me a chance….. I’m really gonna miss you.” Tracy admitted. “What’s the matter, sweetheart?”

“Just…. I don’t wanna lose what we’ve just got back, Mum. How do we make this work?” Marco frowned.

Tracy kept her voice soft. “Oi, don’t you worry about me, Marco. You’ve got enough going on. Your Dad said you’re doing great in your apprenticeship, and you’ve made something for yourself over there. You’ve moved on and I need to catch up.”

Marco glanced at his Dad who changed the radio station, turning the music up slightly. The benefit of being a black cab driver made the journey to Heathrow much easier. As they made their way through the terminal, the reality of parting ways with his parents hit him. Marco felt the need to ask a question. “Mum…. Can I ask you something about you and Dad?” He asked. “I’ve seen you two…. Looking at each other over the last few days….. Are you….”

“No. No, we’re not getting back together.” Tracy answered. Marco frowned sadly.

Tony wrapped an arm round Marco. “Oi, don’t get upset now. Funny thing, in the last few months, we’ve actually found we get on a lot better now we’ve split up.”

Tracy saw the confused look on her son’s face. “You’re not upset are you, sweetheart?”

“I…. I dunno. I thought that…..” He wasn’t sure how to finish the sentence.

Tracy took his hand. “Look, I know things were never perfect with me and your Dad. But we did love each other, once…..But then…. some things…. well, you just can’t change.”

Marco seemed hesitant to ask. “Is it cos of me? Cos you got…. Pregnant by someone else?” He stopped.

Tracy shuddered. “No. None of this is your fault, love….. Me and your Dad knew what we were getting into when…. The point is…. Regardless….. me and your Dad…. We’ve found a good balance now; we’ve found a way where we can be a family of sorts. And I know it’s gonna take a lot more than just a set of football tickets to make up for what I did…. And I really want to make things right…. If you let me?”

“Oh my God!” Tony groaned. “Look at that!”

The Galluci Family looked up. The Flight information display showed heavy delays across the board. Marco searched in vain for the flight for Derry. He glanced at his watch in despair.

Erin: “So did yous just make your first communion today, then?”

Child: “No, we dress like this every day.”

Erin: “Well, I was just trying to make conversation.”

Orla: “Did you enjoy the body of Christ?”

Child: ““It was a bit dry.”

Orla: “Aye, that's why I put butter on it.”

Erin: “Yeah, you're really, really not supposed to do that, Orla.”

Orla: “How many pieces of communion do you think you'd need to swallow to eat a whole Jesus?”

Erin: “Where the hell is Clare?”

                The bus driver Tommy drove up to the bus stop in Strabane’s high street and groaned as he caught sight of a regular passenger looking more flustered than normal.

“Christ! What are ye shaking so much for?” He asked, opening the bus door.

“I couldn’t find my timetable, Timmy! I just turned my entire bedroom upside down trying to find the fecking thing!” Clare shrieked as she got on.

“It’s Tommy! And ya do know they have the schedule at the bus stops, aye?” The man asked.

“Aye, well in my haste I forgot that minor detail!” Clare argued.

“Alright! Alright! Don’t have a period!” Tommy shot.

“My menstrual cycle is of no concern of yours, good sir!” Clare shot back.

“Fine, then don’t have a case of pre-psycho….ause or whatever ye call it! Sit yourself down!”

“That’s pre-menopause, Timmy, I mean Tommy! And I am NOT having one of those for your information!”

                Clare stomped towards a vacant seat next to an old lady. The bus began to make its way out of Strabane and on towards Derry. The 20-minute journey was a sure thing.  The traffic seemed fair, and Clare began to calm slowly as they went along. She glanced around to see the bus was full of a mixture of passengers, mainly older ladies. She could make out the night skyline of Derry when the bus swayed suddenly.

“Whoa! Sweet suffering Jesus!” Clare cried; the bus swayed sharply from side to side.

“Ooh, what’s happening?” The old lady next to her asked, oblivious to what was occurring.

“OH MY GOD! WE’RE GONNA DIE!!! SWEET MERCIFUL JESUS!!! WE’RE ALL GONNA DIE!!!!!” Clare screamed, causing the other passengers to cry out in a panic.

“Well, ye don’t hafta shout, love.” The old lady chuckled calmly.

The bus screeched to a halt. The passengers were left startled as the bus stopped. Clare’s knuckles were white from gripping the seat in front of her. The old lady looked around nonchalantly before seeing Clare shaking like a leaf.

“You alright there, love?” She asked.

Clare’s voice shook. “Christ! I just saw my life flash right before my eyes!...... Jesus, they weren’t lying. I AM a walking cack attack.” Clare admitted.

“What are ye playin’ at ye daft prick?!” Another lady called to the driver.

“Hold on a sec.” Tommy attempted to turn over the bus. But there was no luck. He clambered out the bus to inspect the situation. “Ahhhh for feck sake!” Tommy climbed back inside. “Right! Slight issue…. The fan belt’s snapped.” He announced.

“Ach, that’s no trouble.” A lady said. She proceeded to pull down her tights. Clare looked on with confusion and intrigue. “There ye go! Use these! Super durable, so they are. The other ladies here will chip in, won’t ya girls?!” She called out.

“Oh aye!” “No problem!” “Mine are slightly laddered, will they still do?”

Tommy narrowed his eyes in bewilderment. “What are you lot playing at now? This isn’t the movies! I’m not a fucking mechanic!”

“Useless shitebag!” A woman snapped. “What we supposed to do now?”

“Just sit tight, and I’ll go get some help from the petrol station, It’s only a couple of miles.” Tommy announced.

“Couple of miles? How long will it take? I’m late enough as it is!” Clare cried.

“Don’t get yer knickers in a twist, love. I’ll be back in a wee while.” Tommy insisted.

Clare threw her hands up in the air in disbelief. “Ach, well that’s just….. fecking brilliant isn’t it? A rogue Provo could come up and snatch this bus and use it to transport explosives or armoury and we wouldn’t be able to do anything about it!”

“Well, I doubt that love. They won’t get far with a bus with a snapped fan belt.” The auld lady answered.

“Well, I’m not waiting around to be abducted. I’ve got friends that need me….. I’m….. I’m gonna go it alone.”

Clare clambered out of the bus and began to walk the last 2 miles towards Derry. She kept checking behind her as there was no pavement. But no sooner had she begun to walk. A car came in the opposite direction and passed her. Clare then felt a sense of dread as the same car began to drive up beside her.

“Where ye headin’ love?” A man’s voice called

“I’m sorry. But I’m not that sort of girl so will ya please feck off ya filthy pervert!” Clare shrieked, wielding her umbrella.

“Clare Devlin. Is that yourself?”

Clare stopped at the mention of her name. She leant down and gazed into the car. She was relieved when she saw who it was. “Oh…. Hello Chief Constable Byers.” Her face twitched with embarrassment.

“Aye I thought it was you. What ye doing out here walking by yourself? It’s treacherous, ye know?” Byers asked.

“The bus broke down. I’m late for Erin and Orla’s party, sir!” Clare despaired.

“Well, jump in. I’ll give ye a lift.” Byers offered.

“Oh…. Well….. I suppose no one will get the wrong impression being that we’re too far out. Alright, grand, thanks ever so.” Clare jumped into the car.

Meanwhile, at Jenny Joyce’s party.

Erin: “Well, this is quite the betrayal.”

James: “Why are you all covered in muck?”

Erin: “I climbed over a wall.”

James: “You know there's a gate?”

Erin: “How could you come here? How could you go along with it?”

James: “I didn't want to, but I'm in a bit of a difficult position, Erin.”

Erin: “Well, I'm just glad Orla isn't here to witness this because it would completely break her heart.”

Orla: “All right, Erin?”

Eriin: “Orla! You ditched your own party?”

Orla: “It was crap.”

A few minutes later….

Michelle: “You know, I've never even visited Niall……My ma won't let me. She won't let any of us. She won't even say his name any more…… He had a son…. The man. He had a teenage son…..We found that out later.”

Erin: “I'm sorry, Michelle.”

Michelle: “You weren't wrong. I mean, you weren't right either…..There's no answer to any of this, is there?”

Erin: “No... I don't think there is, you know.”

James: “D'you wanna get out of here?”

Michelle nodded.

Orla: “Can we take that wee tiny horse? No?”

A while later, at the Walls…..

Orla: “I'm glad Jenny's party was so cracker.”

Erin: “What?”

Orla: “I mean, she had everything, a magician, firework display, karaoke machine, Riverdance, wee horse...”

Erin:“Yeah, OK, Orla.”

Orla: “And all it did was make me realise I'd still rather just be standing here on the walls with you guys.”

“Orla...”

………..

Clare: “At last!”

“Oh!”

Michelle: “All right, Mary Poppins?”

Clare: “I've had a shocker, girls!”

“Clare, what happened?”

“I lost my timetable, the bus broke down, fan belt snapped. All these old women were taking their tights off and handing them to the driver, and he was like… "This isn't a film; I'm not a mechanic." Then I finally get to the parish hall, and I get cornered by your Uncle Colm.”

“Christ!”

Clare then explained her wee scheme to get Jenny Joyce to relocate her party, and then….

“Jesus, Clare, where the hell is this gaff?” Bronagh Galagher cried out.

“Oh, my God!”

“Looks like your party's gonna be the biggest night of the year after all, girls!”

“Clare, you little lesbian legend!”

“Let's go, motherfuckerrr!”

“Rollin…. Rollin…. Rollin on a river!” Bronagh Gallagher belted out as the girls and their parents danced jubulantly. The party was finally in full swing. Erin cried out with sheer happiness as James swept her up into his arms. Orla bounced alongside Dennis as the music played. Michelle and Clare jived alongside Mary and Sarah while the men pulled their trouser legs up, getting lost in the music. When the song finished, the crowd cheered loudly. Erin moved over and tapped Michelle’s shoulder.

“What is it?” Michelle asked.

“I just need to talk to ya, private like.” Erin said. Michelle nodded with a knowing look. They took themselves away from the party and went into the hall.

“What’s up?” Michelle asked. Her eyes furrowed.

Erin’s lip started to quiver. Her eyes were heavy with regret. Granda Joe’s words still resonating in her mind. Her voice shook as she spoke. “I….. I’m really sorry, Michelle. I know ya said earlier there’s no right answer to any of this….. But I just need ya to know that I don’t blame ya for walking out, and for hating me. I was out of order….. I didn’t stand by ya when you needed me and I should’ve…. And you’re my best friend; you’ve done more for me than anyone….”

Michelle’s eyes softened as Erin continued. “You’ve been so class about me and James dating, you’ve always put me first, and I didn’t…. I don’t wanna lose you, Michelle. Can ya…. Can ya forgive me? You’re my best friend, and I can’t-”

“Whoa! Stall the fucking ball…..” Michelle stepped towards Erin, halting her. “I meant what I said, Erin….. There is no right answer to this, but I just need to know one thing…… Look, I wanna ask my Mam if she’d be fine with me visiting Niall, and if she says no, I’m still gonna visit him anyway.”

“Not much point asking her then , is there?” Erin huffed.

Michelle spluttered. “Point is….. No matter what happens, will ya stand by me? Not just cos you’re with James, but just for me?” She asked anxiously, offering her fist.

Erin frowned her eyes and bit her lower lip. “Course I will.” She clenched her fist and fist bumped Michelle’s empathically. The two friends embraced warmly. Thankful that they knew the other would be there for them, as they always had.

“Right, now get yer arse back in there. You’re missing ya party. Plus, Dicko’s been missing you like crazy. Been an absolute ballache this week.” Michelle chuckled.

“What’s new?” Erin joked. The friends laughed together. They hugged again before Erin darted back into the hall.

                Erin glanced back at her. They smiled at each other before she disappeared back into the hall. Feeling like a huge weight had finally been lifted off her chest, Michelle took a deep breath. She then felt a presence behind her. Orla and Clare were standing next to her.

“That was really class of yer, Mchelle.” Clare said, smiling warmly at her.

“And we’ll be there for ya too, Michelle. Ye know like that funny lot of ‘Friends’ on Channel 4.” Orla said empathically. He rested her head on Michelle’s shoulder. Making the feisty Mallon smile.

“Thanks, girls. So, d’ya like yer new chocolate fountain, Orla?” Michelle asked.

“Yeah, thanks. You guys are the best. I still can’t believe I got my own chocolate fountain! I can’t wait to try it out.” Orla beamed.

“Aye, we knew you’d like it. Well, to be fair, Marco was the one who found it.” Clare admitted, smiling.

“Oi, Come on, let’s get back inside and have a drink! I wanna get pished. Ye coming Orla?” Michelle motioned, pulling Clare’s arm.

“You guys go ahead…. I’ll be a minute.” Orla said. Clare looked back, unable to reply in time. Granda Joe then came through the door with a sleepy Anna in his arms. He stepped outside and found Orla looking up and down the street.

“Ah, ye alright, Orla love?” Joe asked.

“Yeah, I was…. Just looking out to see if Marco was gonna turn up. He should’ve been here hours ago.” Orla said sadly.

“Aye, I’m sorry, Orla.” Joe frowned for her. He then smirked slightly. “Wanna see me do a magic trick?” Joe asked, smiling.

“A magic trick?.... But the magician went home, Granda.” Orla said, puzzled.

“Pffff. I can do a way better trick than him. Wanna see it?” Joe asked.

“I wan see a magic trick.” Anna spoke up.

“Aye, gone Granda, show us a magic trick.” Orla smiled curiously. “But it better not be ‘pull my finger’ cos Michelle got me good back in the first year.”

“Alright. Very simple, Orla. Close your eyes.” Joe said. Orla obeyed. Shutting her eyes tight. “Now spin round on the spot till I tell ye to stop.”

Orla shrugged her shoulders, doing as she was told without asking. Anna giggled as Orla began to spin faster and faster, Joe shushed her.

“Alright….. and…. STOP!” Joe chuckled. Orla came to an abrupt stop. She stumbled slightly but kept her balance. Not sure which way she was facing. Anna continued to laugh.

“Whoa….. I don’t need to get pished now…. My head’s proper spinning. Now what do I do?” She asked eagerly, her eyes were still closed.

“Now say the magic word.” Joe grinned.

“What is the magic word?” Orla asked.

“Marco!” Anna cried.

“What d’ya say Anna?” Orla asked, opening her eyes.

“That’s the magic word.” A voice said from behind her.

Orla spun round. “WHOA MY GOD!!!!” She cried out with elation and jumped into Marco’s arms, they happily hugged each other as tight as they ever had.

“So sorry I’m late.” He said.

“I don’t care. I’m just happy ye made it! How did you do that, Granda?!” Orla asked, shaking with excitement.

“Told ya. Magic.” Joe winked. “Ye alright, son? Flight get delayed, or were ya celebrating a wee bit too much?” He chuckled, seeing Marco’s smiling face.

“Ya mean they won?!” Orla asked.

“Yeah, we won!” Marco beamed.

“Ach, cracker!” Orla cried happily. Embracing him again.

Joe smiled happily at the couple. “Good to see ya back, son…. again. Gone, you two get inside.” Anna waved at Orla and Marco who walked back inside the parish hall with an arm around each other.

“I saw you on the telly! Ye looked fat!” Orla exclaimed as they walked in.

“You what?”

“AHAHAHA…. Only having a craic. I can’t believe ya back! I got soooo much to tell ya! I mean soooo much happened while you were gone!” Orla exclaimed.

“Yeah? I’ve got a few things to tell you too.” Marco admitted.

“Ach, come on, let’s get inside!” Orla went to go inside, but Marco stopped her.

“Whoa…. Wait a minute. Something you forgot?” Marco asked.

“What?” Orla asked, she looked curiously at him.

“How about this?” Marco pulled a giant Toblerone from his rucksack.

Orla gasped happily. “Ye remembered!” She laughed as she hugged him tightly.

Marco smiled at her response. “Well, you did ask for one.” He chuckled.

Orla looked up at Marco. His dark eyes tugged on the strings of her heart. She cradled his jaw and brought their lips together. They both felt a tension rise within them as they kissed. It deepened slightly. Pouring a week’s separation into this one moment.

Coming out of the kiss. Marco gasped heavily. “Bloody hell.”

“Yeah…. I know.” Orla mirrored. She took his hand. “Come on. Let’s get inside.” She smiled happily.

Meanwhile, Erin had shot across the hall where she spotted James on the other side, interviewing Mary and Sarah with his trusty video camera. She promptly slipped on her shoes and bumped into James causing him to catch her.

“Ooh, you alright there?” Mary asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine, Mammy.” Erin grimaced.

“Well, I was actually asking James to be fair.” Mary admitted.

“Yeah well I’m grand too, Mam. Thanks very much. Can I just borrow James a wee minute?” Erin said.

“What’s wrong?” James didn’t have time to react. Erin lunged in and planted a firm kiss on a bewildered James, who quickly melted into her embrace.

“Erin Josephine Quinn! Control yaself!” Mary barked.

“Jesus! Anyone would think she hadn’t seen the lad for a week!” Sarah gasped.

Coming out of the kiss, Erin confessed. “A few days to be precise, Aunt Sarah. But a few days too much.” She went in and planted another kiss on James.

“Alright! No need to make an exhibition of yourselves!”

 “Sorry, Mrs Quinn.” James said, gushing with embarrassment.

“Uh, come on now Mary. Let’s have ourselves a dance. Leave the lovebirds to it.” Gerry interjected. Smirking at the young couple.

James nodded appreciatively. “Yeah, thanks Gerry…… You alright?” James asked, feeling the petite blonde embrace him.

“I’m sorry I put you in the middle of all that.” Erin frowned.

“It’s alright. Really. It’s alright. Just glad you two both sorted it.” James sighed, tenderly kissing the top of her head. “Party looks really class, doesn’t it?” He chuckled.

Erin looked round and took everything in again. She couldn’t agree more as she smiled at James. Bronagh Gallagher strung on her guitar, playing the song ‘That’s the way love is’ “Aye. Clare really came through. Didn’t she?”

“Hey. I need to do something.” James said.

“What?”

“I need to get your thoughts.” He smiled holding up his camera.

“Aye, OK.” Erin smiled.

James set up his camera and commentated briefly.

“So…. We’re all now 18.... We're all officially adults. So, tell me, Erin, how does that make you feel?”

“Good.”

“Very profound.”

“No, shut up. No, it's good…. It's exciting.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah…. And maybe a wee bit scary too. You know, there's a part of me that wishes everything could just stay the same. That we could all just stay like this forever. There's a part of me that doesn't really want to grow up. I'm not sure I'm ready for it. I'm not sure I'm ready for the world. But things can't say the same, and they shouldn't. No matter how scary it is, we have to move on, and we have to grow up, because things... well, they might just change for the better. So, we have to be brave. And if our dreams get broken along the way.....we have to make new ones from the pieces.”

James took a moment. There was something powerful about what Erin said. “You should write that down.” He smiled.

“Well, maybe I will someday.…” Erin smiled back at her wee English fella. “... Oh my God!” Erin suddenly cried, smiling.

“What?...” James asked. He spun round and saw Orla and Marco group hugging Michelle and Clare.

James called out. “’CO!!!!!!!!”

“YEAAAAAAHHHHHH!!! ALRIGHT BRUV?!” Marco exclaimed,

“HEEEEY!” James laughed, embracing his best friend. “How YOU doin’ you ol’ pirate?!”

The girls smiled as the lads embraced. “Oh my god! How bout ye, Marco? Where ye been?!” Erin smiled, embracing him.

“Have ye not been paying attention, Erin? He went to England!” Orla scoffed.

“I was being saracatic, Orla!” Erin shot.

“Well, you’re a bit crap at it.” Orla shot back.

“Alright, Erin? This party looks mental!” Marco exclaimed, looking around.

“Aye it is!” Orla cheered.

“Yeah it is….. You should’ve got here a wee bit sooner!” Erin boasted jokingly.

“Yeah, If I knew the cast of Wizard of Oz was gonna turn up, I would’ve.” Marco shot, pointing at the ‘small brides’ and Tomasz walking around.

“Ach, shuddup.” Erin smiled, hugging him.

“Grand to have ye back, Marco!” Clare beamed.

“Oi, how’d ya get on with ya football?” Michelle asked eagerly

“Well, there’s a bit of a story to tell there.” Marco admitted.

“Yeah, a slight….. hiccup as well.” James cleared his throat nervously.

“No, that’s a cough, James.” Orla corrected him.

“What you on about, Dicko?” Michelle asked, her brow creasing.

Yeah, I heard there was a slight…. Hiccup over here with you two.” Marco cleared his throat, looking at Erin and Michelle.

“Oohh, that cough sounds desperate. Is it contagious?” Orla asked.

“Shut up, Orla!” Erin snapped.

“Hiccups? coughs? What the fuck are you two saying?” Michelle stressed.

Suddenly, Bewitched ‘C’est la Vie’ started to play. Orla’s eyes shot wide open. “Ohhhhh I love this track!!!! Come on Marco, let’s have a wee dance!” She grabbed his arm.

“I’ll tell you everything in tomorrow!.....” Marco called as he disappeared into the crowd of people.. The group of friends glanced at each other and quickly followed them into the melee as they danced into the night. Reunited.

Chapter Text

But of course, tomorrow couldn’t wait. Once everyone, including Bronagh Gallagher finally left the parish hall. The families congregated back to the Quinn house while the group stacked themselves into the Clio. Orla sprinted across the road and picked up a traffic cone. Erin stood puzzled as her cooky cousin stuffed it in the boot.

“Orla, what ya doin’ bringing that thing for?” Erin asked.

“I read somewhere that if ye go home with a traffic cone, it’s the sign of a good night.” Orla explained happily.

“Definitely not MY sign of a good night. Gimme a good solid ride with a massive ride.” Michelle proclaimed. Mimicking a sex motion with her fingers.

“Yeah, trouble is, their all locked up safely in their padded cells.” Marco shot back. James spluttered as Michelle punched Marco’s arm.

James was appointed designated driver as the girls were slightly sloshed, including Orla. Michelle was in the front passenger seat and kept pranking James, calling for him to brake suddenly, making the group moan as the car jerked forward every time.

“Seriously, Michelle! One of us is gonna boke back here!” Clare moaned.

“Whoa, stop the car!” Michelle cried again.

“I’m not falling for that again, Michelle!” James shot.

“Just fucking do it, Dickhead!” Michelle snapped. James slammed the brakes down. “Whoa!!!! Steady on the brakes, ya great bollocks!”

“Why’d you tell me to stop this time?” James exasperated.

“Look at that. Out there.”

They all stared where Michelle was pointing. They could see something very odd occurring in the darkness of the park. There appeared to be a man holding a flashlight, looking up at a tree. The sound of an angry barking voice could be heard echoing across the park.

“Who is that?” Erin asked.

“I FUCKING KILL YA IF YE COME DOWN FROM THERE….. YA GREAT SHITE!!!!”

“Is that Dennis?” James asked.

“GEAAAAAT OWWWWWWWT!!!!!!”

“Either that or it’s a bloody good impressionist.” Marco chuckled.

“Ach, he looks like a wee lighthouse!” Orla laughed.

“I think he’s got himself pished on that ropey tequila again.” Michelle huffed.

“But who’s he shouting at?” Erin asked.

“Ach, it those Squirrels again. Shifty fuckers.” Orla hummed.

“Orla!” Erin snapped.

“Should we go and help him?” Clare asked.

“AAARGGHHH!!!! I’LL KILL YE YA WEE BOLLOCKS!!!!”

“Bollocks to that! Gone James. Drive.” Michelle ordered. James nodded in agreement and drove off. “That ropey tequila really is lethal!” She admitted.

“Your Mum seemed to like it.” Marco chuckled at Orla.

“What’s so funny?” Orla asked.

“Well, she had two shots of it, and then we think she tried to snog yer Cousin Eammon.” Clare said nervously.

“Wait a minute….. Does that mean Cousin Eammon is now my Da?” Orla asked, looking terrified.

“No, Orla!” Erin groaned. “Anyway, she didn’t try to snog ‘im! He just lost the run of himself cos she pecked his cheek.” She explained.

“Oh, thank God! I mean I know he’s family and all, but he’s such a boring shite!” Orla groaned.

“Orla!” Erin snapped again while the others laughed.

As soon as they got back to the Quinn house, Coco Pops was ecstatic to see Marco home again. He picked up their wee mascot and fussed over him happily. While the parents wound down with tea and biscuits in front of the telly, the group made a beeline for the open Christmas cupboard, this time getting permission to raid it first. They sat around the kitchen table. It was a unique combination of tunnocks, French fancies, tea….. and a bottle of hidden tequila.

‘Shockingly’, Clare declined at first to partake of the tequila, remembering the state of Dennis and Aunt Sarah. But once Michelle taunted her by calling her a ‘craic killer’ again, the wee lesbian had no choice but to down a shot.

2 minutes later…..

“Do ye think she’s sound? Only she looks like Sister Declan did before we killed her.” Orla giggled, pointing at a dazed Clare.

“You what?” Marco asked.

“We DIDN’T kill her!” Erin huffed.

“That’s right, Erin. She was an auld bitch….. and she had crap taste in sandwiches.” Clare slurred, ooking at Orla.

“No, I’m over here, Clare.” Erin waved her hand. Orla turned Clare’s head towards Erin.

“Jesus Christ, what happened to your outfit? It looks like someone took a shite on it!” Clare gasped.

“Right, that’s it! I’m changing out of this.” Erin went to get up.

“No! Don’t go! You’ll miss what R2-Dicko got up to in England!” Michelle said.

Erin settled back down, and they listened to Marco’s wee shenanigan. Everything from his mum Tracy absconding to Spain with Billy Foreman and back again, the debts, the tickets being stolen….. and his “wee scheme” to get them back. At first the girls scoffed at the lunacy of it all but then quietened when Marco showed them one of the ‘notes’. Erin gawped in disbelief as they passed the phoney printed money. Michelle and Orla nodded in awe of the elaborate scheme.

“No way are you serious!” Erin sniggered, still not convinced.

“I am!” Marco chuckled.

“He’s serious alright, Erin. I can see it in his eyes.” James confirmed.

Clare seemed to sober up pretty quick. “So….. let me get this straight….. your mammy bought the tickets, then HE nicked them off HER….. Then YOU printed a bunch of these using James’ mam’s printer….. and then YOU gave this to HIM….. and HE thought THIS was real money?” She stressed.

“Well, he didn’t give it back.” Marco quipped.

“How much did he want again?” Michelle asked.

“5 grand.” Marco shrugged.

“Hmmm, doesn’t sound like much.” Orla stated.

James shook his head. “Bruv, that’s….. That’s…. that’s INSANE!.... No one in their right mind would pay THAT MUCH to watch Arsenal!” He cried.

“HEY! VAFFANCULO!” James flinched but giggled as Marco feigned to swipe him.

Michelle examined the ‘note’ and spoke up. “Wow….. that just sums up the English for ya…. Thick as shite, so they are!”

“Excuse me. We’re sitting right here!” James huffed, motioning between himself and Marco.

“What? Did I mince my words?” Michelle shot.

“Where’s the picture of that wee woman that hides in it?” Orla asked, holding the paper up.

“You mean the Queen?” James asked.

“Aye, that’s her.” Orla nodded.

“Always gotta make things political, don’t ya?.... English prick!” Michele snapped at a baffled James.

“Put it down, Orla! It’s fake. How did he not clock this wasn’t real?” Erin asked. Still baffled.

“Well, I made copies of both sides, so if he flipped through it, he wouldn’t clock…. Also, I gave him this receipt. I think that’s what helped.” Marco explained.

“Oooooh….. very deceptive.” Orla grinned naughtily, pointing at him.

“This receipt looks quite genuine.” Clare said, peering at the receipt.

“Leave off, Clare. It’s probably fake as well.” Erin snatched the paper out of her hand.

“Are you sure you’re not connected? Cos that’s next level mafia shite.” Michelle quizzed.

“Oh, for Gawd sake! I’m not with the mafia!” Marco stressed, throwing his head back.

“Keep it down in there!” Mary called.

“There is one thing puzzling me…..” James pondered.

“You support Crystal Palace, what’d ya expect?” Marco sniggered.

“….. I was gonna say, what happens when he tries to exchange it, or spend it even?” James asked.

“So, what’s he gonna do? Go to the Police and say– Oh excuse me, I stole some tickets and tried to sell them on, but they paid me mickey mouse money? - Wise up, James!”  Michelle jabbed.

“….. I guess you do have a point.” James nodded.

“Besides, Mickey Mouse isn’t the Queen of England.” Orla added.

“That Prince Charles fella could pass for him with those massive ears, though.” Erin joked.

Clare then shot out of her seat. “Well, if the shit hits the fan, I want no part of this. I’m only got a few more months to go to get my A levels done and get myself to university and I won’t have anything jeopardize that!!!” She proclaimed in a panic.

“Uh…. Can yous keep it down in here?!” Mary barked.

“Sorry, Mary.” Clare shivered.

“Clare, come ‘ere….” Marco motioned her over. He put his hand round her. “Look, if they come looking for me, I’ll just say it was all my fault, and you had nothing to do with it. That make you feel better?” He asked.

“Aye OK. I’m gonna hold you to that! I’ve already got a suspicious death, and a miracle hoax on my record, I don’t think I can cope with an act of forgery as well.” Clare stated.

“Ticking ‘em off one by one, aye?” Michelle chuckled.

Mary then came into the kitchen. “Right, time ye wrapped thing up now, girls. Mass in the morning.”  

“Ach, Mammy. Sure, we can miss Mass this once.” Erin chuckled arrogantly.

“How about I take the wooden spoon and see if I miss you, young lady? Just cos you’re 18 now, don’t think you’re skipping Mass!” Mary snapped. “Besides, ya all have to go tidy up the Parish hall tomorrow. You girls upstairs, you lads down here.” She informed the group.

“I thought you already did that?” Erin asked, puzzled.

Mary rolled her eyes as she walked upstairs. “Goodnight, girls.”

Erin cheeked the big clock. “Aye, come on girls, let’s shift.”

“Aye, I’m fucking knackered. Night dickheads.” Michelle yawned, getting up.

“Night lads..” Clare echoed.

“Night, Bear. Thanks for my Toblerone.” Orla happily hugged Marco goodnight, giggling into a kiss.

Erin rolled her eyes, smirking at them “Jesus Christ, Orla. Control yourself….. Night James.” She happily lunged in and gave James a big kiss goodnight.

“See ya.” James blushed.

                Orla ruffled James’ hair. She draped her arms round Clare and Erin as they made their way up  the stairs. “It was a cracker night, weren’t it girls?” Orla hummed in a happy dreary voice.

“Brilliant.” Clare smiled.

“Ach, mental.” Michelle chuckled.

“Class.” Erin added, smiling at Michelle. Leaving James and Marco downstairs to settle on the sofas. Sleep beginning to hit them too.

“They OK?” Marco asked, catching James’ attention. “Erin and Michelle, they’re good, right?…..”

“….. Yeah….. They’re good.” James smiled.

“Thank God.” Marco sighed.

“How about you and your mum?” James asked.

Marco paused. “…… We’re gonna work on it.” He answered, James mirrored his smile, then started sniggering. “What?” Marco sniggered back.

James held up the phoney money. “Just thinking about…. Him.…. and this…. What a fucking muppet!”  They cackled together.

“Great big Fecking eejit!” Marco mimicked an Irish accent.

“Aye, big THICKO!” James added.

“Keep it down, ya noisy English pricks!” Michelle shouted from upstairs.

“Language, Michelle!” Mary cried.

The girls felt the repercussions of the party the next morning as they attended Sunday mass. Nothing spared them from the various hangovers they were all sporting, nor were they exempt from tidying up the parish hall once mass had finished. But they were still riding an amazing high of elation. Erin smiled throughout Mass, despite her discomfort, not even the hawk eye glare of Sister Michael could dampen her spirits….. She felt true relief that she and Michelle had patched things up.

The hall was just round the corner from the church and had been locked up with the mess still inside. They mumbled and groaned amongst themselves as they walked round, only to be met by none other than Sister Michael.

“Well, well, well. My usual suspects. It’s been a minute.”

“Here to give us a hand, Sister?” Erin chuckled.

“If that’s an attempt of humour, Miss Quinn; You better pray you do well on your A-levels. Follow me.” The Nun said coldly.

Unlocking the door. They followed her inside. The parish hall was a sight to behold. Several tables with used paper cups, food bowls and scrunched paper plates, leftover food, decorations, cupboard cut outs, and soft monkey toys were spawned across the floor.

“Exactly, who in God’s name did you allow in here last night? I’ve seen protests leave less mess behind!” Sister Michael asked sternly.

“We didn’t make this much mess, did we?” Clare gasped.

“To be fair, it was a bit dark in here last night.” James said.

“I must confess, I didn’t really notice much after that third shot.” Michelle admitted.

“Maybe Bronagh did it?” Orla suggested.

“This can’t be right….. we didn’t leave the hall in this state! There’s no way my Ma would’ve walked out leaving this much mess behind.” Erin protested.

“Well, if you think this is something….. you should see the state of the toilets! I’m quite sure Glastonbury hosts better port-a-loos than them.” Sister Michael hissed. “The buckets are outside, you can handle it, Miss Mallon.” She asked.

“Ach, come on Sister, that’s not fair! I’m not feeling too grand this morning. I’ll just make it worse.” Michelle protested.

“It’s not up for negotiation, Miss Mallon. Shift yourselves.” Sister Michael walked out the hall.

“Ach for fuck’s sake!...... Come on, Orla. Give us a hand…. You got a stronger stomach than me.” Michelle took Orla by the wrist and marched out towards the toilets.

                The girls went around the hall, shoving rubbish into black bags while James and Marco folded up the tables. Clare looked round towards the double doors. Their activities paused when they heard sporadic moans coming from the toilets.

“SWEET…. SUFFERING JESUS!!” Michelle’s wrenching voice echoed.

“What d’ya reckon she’s found?” Clare worried.

“You’re more than welcome to go an’ see.” Erin suggested.

“No thanks.” Clare shivered, shoving more rubbish into her black bag.

“Ye know, we should’ve got Jenny Joyce in here to help out… Michelle said she was losing the run of herself last night over folk leaving wee marks on her Sicilian marble floor.” Erin laughed.

“Well, she’s bound to call an electrician at some point after that wee ‘power cut’. I just pray she doesn’t find out it was me.” Clare stressed, shoving rubbish into the black bag with haste.

“Catch yourself on, Clare. It’s not like she has CCTV in her house….. at least I don’t think she does.” Erin teased.

“Oh thanks, Erin. That’s helped a great deal.” Clare moaned.

                The work was nearly done. James and Marco carried a folded table to the other end of the hall. It wasn’t until they opened the door to the storage room when they found more mess inside. Their trainers cluttered into a scattering of cups, beer cans, bottles, and leftovers on the floor.

“Jesus! What’s been going on in ‘ere then?!” James gasped.

“Maybe the rats have an after party or something.” Marco joked.

James rolled his eyes but tittered uncontrollably. As they cleared the up the mess. They then began to stack the folded tables up.

“Right….. I’ve been meaning to ask you…. And NO GLOATING….. What was it like at Wembley?” James asked, keenly intrigued.

Marco exhaled fondly at the memory. “Ah…. Mate…… like…. Ok, you know when you and Erin first……” He paused.

“First what?” James asked.

“You know…… when… you…. First…..?” Marco hinted.

James’ eye widened, and his mouth crooked when he finally got the hint. “…… Yeah.” He blushed, sorting a goofy grin.

“Yeah?..... What was that like?” Marco sniggered.

“Piss off!” He cackled. “So, what you saying? Seeing Arsenal win the FA cup was better than sex?” James asked.

“Well…. Haven’t got a comparison yet, have I?” Marco admitted, smiling.

James spluttered, “Trust me, ‘Co. It’s a world of difference!..... If and when…. When you and Orla….. well, let’s just say you won’t be thinking about a bunch of blokes on a football pitch!..... I mean, unless you’re into that sort of thing.” James joked.

“Alright, alright, Hefner!!!….. Jesus Christ… And you told ME not to gloat.” Marco shot playfully.

                The two friends chuckled together when they heard something move. They froze, looking in the direction of the noise inside the storage room.

“D’you hear that?” James asked.

“Could be the rats.” Marco suggested.

“Rats don’t sound like that!” James said. He slowly walked towards where the noise came from.

“WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?!” They jumped at Michelle’s echoing voice.

“What is she doing in there?” James stressed.

“HOLY SHIT!!!!!!!” Michelle suddenly cried out.

“…..Maybe that’s what she’s doing?” Marco suggested.

They peaked out of the storage room, forgetting the noise. They saw Michelle burst through the doors and into the main hall with Orla jumping with excitement. Michelle was holding what looked like a biscuit tin.

“You lads gotta see this!!!!” Orla exclaimed excitedly. The lads shoved the last table away and hurried out.

“What is it?” Erin asked.

Michelle couldn’t contain her excitement anymore. She opened the small biscuit tin. A distinct, strong herbal aroma filled their nostrils. The girls gasped at the contents. A sealed, see-through plastic bag with clumps of marijuana, a grinder, with a small stash of rolled up joints next to it. While they wre distracted, someone slipped out of the storage room.

Erin’s eyes went wide. “Holy Shit, Michelle! Where do find this?!” She gasped.

“Orla found it in one of the toilet cisterns.” Michelle answered excitedly.

“What was Orla doing looking in the cisterns?” James scrunched his brow.

“Sweet merciful Jesus on a bike! This is a drug hoard!” Clare stressed. “Who do you think it belongs to?”

“Who cares who it belongs to….. Let’s take a couple of joints out and get wrecked!” Michelle suggested.

“Aye that’s sounds like a great craic!” Orla nodded.

“No! We can’t take this!!!!” Clare protested.

“Ach, come on Clare! Where’s the wee rebel who sabotaged Jenny’s party?” Michelle shot back.

“That’s different, Michelle! Beside from the fact there’s enough drugs here that’d make a Cuban drug lord turn his head…. clearly it was hidden so no one would find it so the best thing would be is to put it back or get rid of it!!!” Clare stressed.

“Oh! And what they gonna do? Put an advert in the local paper…… what’s it gonna read? “Will the person who nicked my stash of gear please return it?!” Michelle exclaimed.

“Well, If you say it any louder, you won’t have to.” James shot.

“Oh my God! Why is it we always find ourselves in these types of situations?  I swear I cannot take any more shocks…. If I get one more shock, I’m likely to have a heart attack!” Clare stressed.

“WHAT ARE YOU FUCKERS DOING?!” The girls all jumped and spun around to see a cackling, dishevelled Laurie standing behind them.

“Alright girls?!” Laurie cackled.

“That’s not funny, Laurie! Ye know how I get when ye make me jump!” Clare shrieked.

“Jesus, your sex life must be a right melter!” Michelle shot.

Clare didn’t hear what Michelle said, she melted as soon as her girlfriend planted a kiss on her lips.

 “Sorry babes….” Laurie hummed.

“…… Alright, you’re forgiven.” Clare answered dreamingly.

“So, what’s the craic girls? How’d the party go?….. Jesus Christ!” Laurie exclaimed, spying the biscuit tin.

“It’s not what it looks like!” Clare panicked.

“No, I’m pretty sure it looks like drugs to me. You girls starting smoking weed now, aye?” Laurie asked with a hint of excitement.

“No. We found this wee biscuit tin in the toilets and Michelle wants to be smashed on them.” Orla explained calmly.

“Christ, what d’ya do? Mug Snoop Dogg or somethiing?” Laurie asked, holding the bag up.

“Don’t say it, Orla! We know Snoop Dogg was NOT at our party last night!” Erin snapped.

“Girls, I think we need to focus here…. What do we do with these?” James wondered.

“We need to do the right thing and dispose of them.” Michelle stated.

“Smoking them doesn’t count as disposing of them, Michelle.” James replied.

“Noooo, really?” Marco shot.

“Oh aye. Weirdest thing just happened…. When I came in, I saw Sister Michael out in the corridor. Absolutely raging so she was. You girls know anything about that?” Laurie asked.

The group looked at each other and then spied the wee biscuit tin. The truth dawned on them.

“Ye don’t think……. OOHHHH SHIIIIIT!!!!!” Erin stressed.

“Ya really outdone yourself this time Michelle!!!! They’re Sister Michael’s drugs!!!! Ya stole sister Michael’s drugs!!!!!” Clare panicked.

“How was I to know they were hers?!” Michelle shrieked.

Erin sprinted toward the hall doors. She peaked through the wee window and saw sister Michael in the corridor, marching towards the hall.

“Oh shit! She’s coming this way!!!!” Erin exhaled, rejoining the others.

“What we gonna do with them!?” James panicked.

“We can always sell them back to her?” Marco suggested.

“That might work.” Orla agreed.

“Now is not the time to start a drug racket, Marco!” Clare shrieked.

“Can we not just hide them in some scones again?” Orla shrugged.

“We’re a wee bit short on scones at this moment, Orla!” Erin stressed.

Erin grabbed a nearby black bag while Michelle scrambled to put the biscuit tin inside. Orla spun around in circles while the others scrambled to grab what they could. They made their way to the double doors.

“Right, let’s just calm down, girls…… and let’s walk out casually as if we’re just taking the rubbish out.” James suggested.

“Yeah! That’s a grand plan! Let’s just….. casually stroll out the door with the rubbish…… We’re gonna get caught! We’re gonna get caught! Sweet merciful Jesus help me! We’re gonna get caught!” Clare panicked.

“God's sake, Clare! Keep it together. Will ya now!” Laurie said calmly.

“She get this excited when yous two play the fantango?” Michelle quipped.

“Not now, Michelle!” James groaned.

Erin led the way while the group acted as ‘calmly’ as possible. The group flinched when they caught sight of a very suspicious Sister Michael glaring at them.

“OH! SISTER MICHAEL! JUST TAKING THE RUBBISH OUT NOW!!!!! THE HALL’S ALL SORTED… ABSOLUTELY NOTHIN’ TO SEE HERE!!!!” Erin exclaimed loudly as the group turned towards the exit.

“Nice one Erin. Like THAT didn’t sound shifty!” Michelle shot.

“JUST…… one minute there.” Sister Michael called sternly. “I want a word with you girls.” The girls froze. They turned slowly. “Do any of you know the whereabouts of the Tampon dispenser?”

“Please, Sister. The lads are gonna get embarrassed.” Erin chuckled nervously.

“Are ye desperate for a tampon, Sister?” Michelle sniggered. The Nun shot her a cold stare.

“I am in no mood for humour, Miss Mallon…. And if I had a tampon to hand, your mouth would certainly know about it…… I’m talking about the Tampon dispenser in the ladies toilet!”

“Ach, but there was no dispenser in the toilet, Sister.” Orla said.

“THAT is exactly my point, Orla! It’s only been here a week, and now’s it’s gone!” Sister Michael bellowed.

“Are you saying it’s been stolen, Sister Michael?” Clare asked.

“You catch on fast, Clare.” The Nun shot with sarcasm.

“Who’d steal a tampon machine?” Laurie asked, confused.

“Someone with a severely desperate period?” Orla suggested.

“This is no laughing matter, girls. Those things cost an arm and a leg, and now I have to order another one! That’s money I had to fork out from the church funds…. I protested enough about the condom dispenser!.....”

Michelle spluttered.

“….. You five, well, seven in fact…..better get it back here ASAP, or your parents can front the bill for a new one! Is that clear?” Sister Michael warned.

“Why us?” Erin stressed.

“Because it went missing at your party, Miss Quinn! Therefore, you are responsible! You’re adults now, so act like it!” Sister Michael snapped. The group stood flabbergasted as Sister Michael about turned and left.

“If there’s seven of us, does that make us the seven dwarves?” Orla asked happily.

“Well, I definitely know which one you are, Orla!” Erin grumbled.

                The group exited the parish hall taking the hoard of black rubbish bags round to the large refuge bins. While they grumbled about the missing tampon dispenser, the finger of suspicion went round from Dennis to cousin Eammon, to one the rowdy partygoers, to even Jenny Joyce…… They flung the rubbish bags into the large container. As they went to leave, Orla and Marco finished up. Orla stopped when she hurled a particular heavy bag into the refuge bin. The thud made her stop.

“That’s funny.” She said.

“What?” Marco asked.

“I thought I heard something…. Like someone was in the big wee bin.” Orla replied.

Marco scrunched his brow. “What? Like that the green thing that lives in the bin on Sesame Street?” Orla nodded. “That’s one hell of the tunnel to dig from Sesame Street to here.” He sniggered.

“Oh haha…. Very funny…..” Orla hummed. “I swear. I heard this proper ‘UUURGHHH’ noise just now.” She insisted. She went closer but flinched at the stench. She then shrugged her shoulders. “Oi! Wait!” Orla called.

Marco stopped; Orla wrapped her arms round his waist. “Yeah, what’s up?” He asked.

“I wanted to ask ya something…..So..... you …. You saw your mam?” She asked carefully.

“Yeah….. Yeah I saw her.” Marco answered.

Orla paused. Searching for her next question. “……. How’d you feel?” She asked.

“It was….. a bit tense.” Marco admitted. He pondered the previous week. “We…. said a few things…. But….. we’re a lot better than we were….. a LOT better.” He said.

Orla looked conflicted. “And….. What does that mean? I mean…. Does it mean you’re going back to England when your finish up your apprenticeship to sort things out?.... Cos…. I wouldn’t wanna stop ya cos-” Orla’s breath hitched, and her heart skipped as she felt Marco kiss her. Orla closed her eyes and held him tight as she kissed him back.

They rested their forehaeds on each other as they came out of the kiss. “It means we’re gonna take things slow….. but I’m not going anywhere, Orla…... I’m staying here…. With you.” Marco said.

“Really?.....” His nod ignited a euphoric smile from Orla as she thew her arms round him. Relieved at the answer. They stood together in a loving hug.

“I love ya.” Orla sighed happily.

“I love you too.” Marco replied.

“Class….. cos there’s something else, Marco….. Something I’ve been meaning to tell ya…. I’m ready.” Orla emphasized. She smiled with an aura of confidence.

Marco was now dumbstruck. He stumbled on his words. “You…. You mean….”

Orla giggled. “Don’t cack yourself, Marco. Ready when you are…. Or maybe when ya least expect it, Aye?” She said playfully, she gently kissed him.

“…..Ok…… wicked!” He beamed, the pair laughed together.

“Oi! Come on now, you two cheeky fuckers!” Michelle called to them.

“Running all the way, Michelle!” Orla cried out.

She draped Marco’s arm over her shoulders, and they smiled happily together as they caught up with the others. As they walked away, the rubbish bags began to ruffle. A dishevelled figure of a man slowly emerged from the refuge bin. He stared coldly at the pair as they walked up towards the end of the street. His hair was long and shaggy.  His beard was two toned, hie eyes were sunken.

“English…. Bastard.” He growled through gritted teeth. His voice a thick Irish accent.

                The issue of the missing tampon dispenser was raised again when the group got home. Mary was already informed of the situation. Erin only wished her Mam wouldn’t go on about it as she went about making Sunday dinner. Aunt Sarah only added to the despair. They all stood in a line, receiving the chastise of the Quinn matriarch. Laurie couldn’t help but feel the same tension as the others, even though she just got back.

“Jesus….. you girls have pulled some pranks in your day, but this…… I don’t even know where to start with this one.” Mary stressed.

“We didn’t take the machine, Mammy!” Erin insisted.

“Well, somebody did!” Mary snapped.

“Well, to be fair, Mary, it might have been a necessity.” Sarah piped up.

“I could care less if it was a necessity, Sarah. We’re not paying out for a new….. Sanitary Machine.” Mary stumbled.

“I thought it was a tampon machine?” Orla asked.

“Don’t say that word, Orla. Your Uncle Gerry has enough trouble with knickers.” Mary snapped. Making Gerry shuffle awkwardly.

“Prick has no stomach for anything.” Joe shot, speaking from his chair.

Mary raised her voice. “JUST…. Find the machine and get it back before we have to fork out for a new one. Now we’ll have no more to say about the matter.”

“Thank God!” Erin huffed.

“I wouldn’t worry, Mary. I’m sure it’ll turn up.” Gerry assured her.

“Aye, let’s hope so. Right, you wains make sure you get some revision in today. Time to focus on what matters most.….. and no more dramas!” Mary crossed herself.

“Aye. it’s a right melter, so it is. We don’t need Sunday night drama on the Telly when we have it in our own front room, right, Mary?.” Sarah added, lighting a cigarette.

“Oi! Yous lot….. Come and look at this!” Joe cried from the living room. Everyone shifted immediately into the living room.

“What is it, Daddy?” Sarah asked.

“Hold on……” Joe turned up the TV. They all turned to see RTE news was on the telly giving a report.

“And finally….. In a bizarre incident at London Heathrow Airport a few days ago…. A man was arrested following a 999 call from a Bureau de Change cashier, who alerted Police that the man attempted to exchange an obscene amount of money using forged notes totalling in £5000 for Spanish currency……”

“Why d’ya call us for this, Joe?” Gerry asked, Joe shushed him as the report went on.

“The man, seen here in exclusive footage, was identified as petty thief Billy Foreman from South London, England. He appears bewildered at first when police approach him….  but soon as they inform him of his arrest…… he goes into hysterics as he is read his rights….”

The group, especially Marco stood staring at the telly with his jaw wide open.

“HOLY SHIT!!!!!” James cried. Everyone tuned to him. “Oh….. sorry.”

Joe looked at Marco. “Oi lad….. Is that the same prick that…..”

“Yeah!” Marco managed to say. His eyes were wide as the report continued.

“…..As he was led out of the airport…. Amidst his emotional cries of innocence, Mr Foreman also appeared to break down in tears while blurting out angry obscenities towards an unknown person…..”

‘NO!…… NO!!!……It weren’t me!!!!..... I swear It weren’t me!!!!!....it…wasn’t….meeeeeeee!!!!!!  I’ll kill that little bastard!!!! Marco!!!!! you BLEEP’ing BLEEEEEEEEEEP…. Marco!!!! Maaaaarrrrrrrcooooooo!!!!! I’ll BLEEP’ing kill you!…… NAAAAAOOOOOOO!! It’s not faaaaake!!!! Ahhhhhhhh!!!!”

“No….. FUCKING….. way!” Erin exclaimed, forgetting herself.

“Language, Erin!” Mary snapped as the group and parents watched the footage of Billy Foreman, crying and whining as Police lead him away.

“Christ! What a baby!” Orla shook his head in disapproval. Marco spluttered at her statement.

“Jesus! Look at the state of him! What did ya mammy ever see in the man, love?” Sarah asked Marco.

“Shhhhh…..” Joe turned the TV up as the report went on.

“….. Mr Foreman categorically denies that he forged the money himself, claiming that it was the result of a prank by the son of his ex-partner, Tracy Galluci, yet the woman in question had already reported Mr Foreman to the Police following a burglary on her property just a week ago. In response to his claim, Police have also confirmed that Mr Foreman had forged numerous loans in Mrs Galluci’s name during their relationship. John Osborne reports from London Heathrow airport…..”

“Aye! They were Marco’s tickets, ya thieving bastard!!!!” Orla stressed angrily, shouting at the TV as the report continued.

“For the love of God….. Will ya control yourselves, girls!” Mary snapped again. The on-sight reporter began. Demonstrating the flawed money.

“This here is one of the notes that Mr foreman handed over to the cashier in this bizarre exchange…. This one note was part of this stack of £20 notes ….. And at first glance….. Stacked together,  it appears to be genuine. But upon inspection, as you can see…. It’s as worthless as monopoly money……”

“Christ! That fella must come up the foyle in a bubble, aye?” Laurie joked.

“…. The cashier quickly informed the police when she discovered that the other side of the notes were completely blank….. That and the fact that this paper is standard printing paper, unlike the genuine cotton paper notes, along with the queen’s reflection, and authenticity strips embedded inside the notes. One can only suggest that Mr. Foreman was either blind as a bat, or just THAT much of an eejit to think that this was real….. John Osborne, RTE news.”

“Understatement of the fucking century!” Michelle sniggered. Mary groaned.

“In addition; South London Constabulary has confirmed that Mr Foreman had been under suspicion less than 2 years ago following a report of an assault on a minor. Despite his pleas of not guilty, this one charge alone, under the forgery and counterfeit act of 1981 carries the potential maximum sentence of 10 years imprisonment…. And if it is indeed proven that Mr Foreman is guilty of the other alleged offenses….. well, keeping with the theme of France ’98…… a few more World Cup tournaments will have come and gone by the time he could be released. And with that from me and everyone at RTE news…. Have a grand Sunday.”

While Orla saluted at the telly, everyone stood dumbstuck by the report. Erin and the grils glanced at Marco. The young man appeared conflicted at first. But the still image of Billy Foreman’s panic-stricken face on the telly brought a sense of vindication to him.

“Guess ya weren’t lying.” Erin shrugged. “You alright?” She asked him. Marco puffed a heavy breath. As if a heavy weight had just been lifted off him.

“10 years?..... Bloody hell, Marco. I know I said you’d come up with something, but…..” James wasn’t how to finish his sentence. The two friends glanced at each other and could only titter.

“FUCK- A-DOODLE-DOO! Derry’s Goodfella strikes again!” Michelle cackled.

“Spoke a wee bit too soon about no more dramas, Mary.” Sarah gasped.

“Oh my God, Marco! D’you realize what you did?!..... You just framed an actual thief and got him sent up for 10 years for something he actually didn’t do!!!!” Clare stated lightly.

Everyone turned to look at Marco. There was no denying the cheeky, nervous grin that was now spread across his face as he shuffled his shoulders. “……. Well, I didn’t mean to.” He said, trying to sound innocent. Everyone cracked and started laughing.

 “Ach, well that’s fine, love. No harm done.” Sarah shrugged.

“….. Aye…… My thoughts exactly.” Mary added.

“Good on ya, son. Ye put that bastard where he fecking belongs!” Joe added, patting Marco’s arm while Orla hugged him tight.

“What ye gonna do next, Knight rider?” Gerry chuckled.

Marco checked his watch. “I think I’m gonna take Coco Pops for a walk…. And I think I better call my Mum.” He said.

“Hmmmm, maybe ya should aye? Come on now wains. Shift yourselves.” Mary returned to the kitchen.

As the group shifted out into the hallway. Erin looked at James as they put their trainers on. “Do ya wanna come round after dinner?” She asked James.

“Not tonight, Erin. Revision!” Mary called from the kitchen.

“Guess not.” James shrugged.

“Can we go out later after dinner, Ma?!” Erin called back sarcastically.

“Less of the cheek….. Just not tonight, OK?” Mary replied.

“She alright?” Marco asked Erin.

“Probably just raging cos of this tampon machine.” Erin groaned.

“Ach, it’ll turn up….. They’re probably just edgy cos the vote’s next week.” Michelle added.

“Big moment…..” Marco nodded.

“Very big moment.”  James confirmed.

“Very much so.” Clare added.

“I still don’t think it’s fair that Marco can’t vote. Is it cos he’s Italian?” Orla groaned.

“Orla, we’ve been over this.” Erin moaned. “Marco just hasn’t lived here long enough to be able to register…. Or he doesn’t have Irish roots like James, you, or me. So, it’s not cos of that!” She stressed.

“I dunno, after seeing what he did to that prick, he might have a way to rig the vote.” Michelle sniggered.

“Aye. Ya know how those mafia lot buzz about politics.” Erin laughed, shoulder nudging Marco.

“Shut. Up. Erin.” Marco cackled.

The group laughed together as they headed out the front door and into the street. Clare and Laurie said their goodbyes to the group as they got into Laurie’s car.

“Christ, Not gonna lie, I can’t wait to get back to Strabane., I need a bath.” Laurie fluttered her eyebrows suggestively at Clare, making her blush.

“Oh yeah? Gonna scrub her back there, Clare?….. or ye gonna rub her-“Michelle whispered.

“Uh, I am NOT gonna dignify that with an answer, Michelle.” Clare shrieked.

“Ach, only having a craic for Christ’s sake! See ya later yer wee lezzer.” Michelle laughed, hugging Clare goodbye.

“That’s a yes then.” Erin chuckled, also hugging Clare goodbye.

“See ya girls. Next time my place.” Clare smiled excitedly.

“Aye, I’ll bring my snorkel if James ever finds it.” Orla hugged Clare goodbye.

“What for?” Clare asked.

“Well, for the bath. I always snorkel when I take a bath.” Orla shrugged. Clare looked confused as she got into Laurie’s car.

“See ya girls!” Laurie called.

“Laters!” Erin called out. As the car drove away. James and Marco said goodbye to Erin and Orla. Marco was going round the Mallon’s for Sunday dinner.

“How you feeling, Marco?” Erin asked, seeing the look on his face as he hugged Orla.

“….. Not bad….. Not bad at all. You?” He asked back.

Erin glanced at James, and then at Michelle who smiled back at her. “Pretty fecking good. “She answered. Smiling.