by Anna King
Maybe This Time
Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Acknowledgements
Copyright
Maybe This Time
Anna King
For Susan Bull who is always there when I need her. Thank you for being my friend, Sue.
Chapter One
‘Hello, Janie, you’re looking lovely today, ain’t she, boys?’
‘Oh! Thanks, Barney… Ta. That’s nice of you to say so.’
Even as the words left her mouth, Jane Flynn silently cursed herself for a fool and felt her cheeks grow hot under the earnest stares of the handsome young man looking at her – a man who was no friend of her family; especially her brother Rory. Never comfortable with people at the best of times, and knowing she was being made fun of, she found herself increasingly flustered by the presence of Barney Hobbs and his grinning companions. The men’s sniggering only made her feel more uncomfortable. Keeping her face averted, she tried frantically to think of something witty or amusing to say. Better still, some cutting remark that would put Barney Hobbs at a disadvantage, but like always, no words came to mind. They would later, after she had replayed the scene over and over in her mind as she lay in the safety of her darkened bedroom, but not now, not now when she needed the quick repartee most girls of her age would find easy. But then most girls of her age weren’t handicapped by a disfiguring strawberry birthmark that covered the left side of her face. The worst part of her affliction was that most people treated her with either embarrassment or pity, when all she had ever wanted was to be accepted for the person she was inside. But the sad fact was that the majority of people only looked at the appearance that was presented to the world; namely the face. Her only consolation was the fact that she lived in a close-knit community, and because of that the people in her street and the surrounding area had seen her grow up from a baby to the sixteen-year-old girl she was now. Those friends and neighbours accepted her just the way she was. The same kind people had long since looked past the ugly stain that had ruined what would have been a pretty face.
It was easy to spot strangers to the area, for they would stop and stare at the young girl as if she was some sort of freak. She should have been immune to it by now, but as often as it happened, Jane never ceased to feel a stomach-churning shame and embarrassment for her affliction. Then there were people like Barney Hobbs and his cronies. Cruel and indifferent to people’s feelings, their only source of enjoyment was tormenting and inflicting hurt upon anyone who was different, for their own twisted amusement. And, to add insult to injury, bullies like these assumed that anyone not normal in their bigoted eyes must also be simple-minded. That thought brought Jane’s head up proudly. If there were any ignorant people present, it certainly wasn’t her. If she was given the opportunity to pit her wits against any one of the smirking, drunken men, she knew with absolute certainty that she could wipe the floor with the lot of them.
Yet this knowledge was of no use to her as Barney Hobbs and his friends formed a circle around her, pushing her against the wall of the closed shop on the corner of the street where she always waited for her brothers, thus blocking any chance of escape. She could feel the heat of the hot June day through her cotton dress, and the burning cobbled pavement was penetrating her thin sandals. Then she felt Barney’s hand run over her buttocks, his face showing a cruel, sneering veneer, confident his prey would be too scared to make a fuss. And he was right in his arrogant assumption. For Jane, her heart pumping so violently she could hear the noise resounding in her ears, stayed rooted to the spot. Trembling from head to foot, she didn’t think she could feel any further fear; until she looked directly into Barney’s eyes and saw a new look enter them. Jane Flynn had led a sheltered life, protected as much as possible from the outside world by her parents and three older brothers, but even in her innocence she recognised the look of lust reflected in Barney’s eyes as he stared down at her hungrily. He pulled her close to his chest, his hand undoing the ribbon fastened under her chin to keep in place the wide straw hat she always wore. His grin widened as he pushed the protective garment from her head, leaving her feeling vulnerable and exposed in the bright sunlit day. People passed by the small group, but no one paid them any attention. To all intents and purposes Jane and the four men were merely larking about; it was a common enough sight on a Sunday afternoon. The sound of a tram approaching caught her attention, giving her a moment of hope. Surely someone sitting on the open-topped tram would notice her distress and come to her aid. But the tram rumbled by noisily on steel tracks, disappearing from view within seconds.
The fear that now gripped her had paralysed her voice, preventing her from calling out for help. If only her brothers would show up. They should have been here by now. They knew she would be waiting for them on the corner of Morning Lane, five minutes from the pub they frequented, just as she had done every Sunday lunchtime since she was twelve. This ritual had been instigated by her mother, sick of waiting for her three sons to arrive home on time for their Sunday dinner. She had threatened numerous times that if they were late just once more she would throw their meal to the first passing stray dog, adding that at least then her cooking would be appreciated, but the strapping young men would laugh and slap her rounded buttocks with affection as they left for their Sunday outing to the pub.
When the boys were younger they would all accompany her to church and watch with envy as their father disappeared into the pub on the journey home. Paddy Flynn still had a drink after Mass – just the one, though, and Annie didn’t begrudge her husband his Sunday treat; she never had – but those times had long since gone. Her boys no longer attended Mass, but they never missed their Sunday pre-lunch drink. Even their father, who they loved dearly, wasn’t able to get them out of the pub before closing time. Once, out of anger at seeing another roast dinner dry up, Annie had marched into the crowded pub and pulled her sons out by the scruff of their necks, giving them each a sound slap across the back of their heads for good measure, much to the amusement of the regulars. It was a sight no man had seen before; the Flynn brothers being given a sound thrashing, running from the irate woman who barely came up to her sons’ chests as if the devil himself was snapping at their heels. But the following week she had waited in frustration while the dinner she had so carefully prepared grew cold. It was then she’d had an idea. They might ignore her and their father, but if they knew Jane was waiting in the street for them, then they would make sure to keep an eye on the time. Her ploy had worked. Since that first Sunday she had sent Jane to wait on the corner for her brothers, they had never been late. And Jane, who adored her big brothers, had been ecstatic at being allowed out on her own. For from the first moment she could remember, there had always been someone with her, guarding her against the world, against life itself, something they would never have done if she hadn’t been born with the disfiguring facial blemish. She often thought her family worried more about her appearance than she did, but if that were true it was only because they loved her. And that unconditional love had
seen her through the rare moments of self-pity and despondency that had sometimes threatened to overwhelm her.
Sunday had been her favourite day since then. She would attend Mass with her parents, then, when the joint of meat was ready to be carved by her father, her face would light up, for this was the signal for her to fetch her brothers. And though she loved all her brothers it was Rory who meant the most. He was always the first one to arrive, picking her up and twirling her round until she felt giddy. He would make her laugh until she felt sick and begged him to stop. Then Shaun and Pat would turn the corner and the four of them would walk home together. But it was those first few minutes when she had Rory to herself that she treasured.
‘What’s the matter, love? You waiting for yer brothers to turn up? Maybe they’ve forgotten yer. You know what the Irish are like when they’ve ’ad a few drinks. You’re all the same, the lot of yer. All holy Joes ranting on about yer precious St Patrick and the Pope, then it’s outta church an’ into the nearest pub.’ The sneering voice brought the young girl out of her reverie, and with it a rare flash of bravery. She would never have thought of sticking up for herself, but nobody talked about her family like that. Struggling wildly, she managed to free her hands and pushed hard against her tormentor’s chest.
‘Don’t you make fun of my family, Barney Hobbs. You wouldn’t be so brave if my brothers were here, would you? You’re just a coward and a bully, so there,’ she ended childishly, her eyes darting down the road as Barney’s words echoed in her head. Surely they hadn’t forgotten her! No! They would never do that. They would be here any moment now; but every passing second seemed to the frightened girl like an hour.
‘Listen to her, lads. That’s something else the Irish have in common, a bad temper; ’specially those with red hair. Ooh, I’m shaking in me boots.’ The derisory comment brought hoots of laughter from the drunken men, fuelling Jane’s fear even further. ‘Look, lads, she’s blushing,’ sneered Barney, his full lips spread in a cruel smile. ‘Mind you, it’s a bit hard ter tell with that face, ain’t it?’ He pressed his body closer to the terrified girl, his hand tightening on her buttocks. ‘Like that, d’yer, love? I mean ter say, with a face like yours, yer ain’t likely ter get many offers, are yer?’ As Barney became more aggressive with the girl, the rest of the young men began to feel increasingly uneasy. It was one thing to have a bit of fun, but Barney was taking things a bit too far for their liking. They began to fall back, their initial amusement abating, along with the alcohol they had consumed, as they suddenly remembered who the girl was.
Then, seemingly out of nowhere, a red-headed man burst through their ranks. With a roar of outrage, he grabbed Barney by the scruff of the neck, turned him round and threw him up against the wall so hard that pieces of chalk and brick rained down on his head and shoulders. The unexpected attack knocked Barney senseless for a moment, but he quickly recovered. Growling, he launched himself at Rory Flynn with the fierceness of a wild animal; but the Irishman met his adversary head on. Jane began to cry as the two men exchanged blows, the sound of fists hitting bone making her squeeze her eyes tightly shut in an effort to blot out the scene being played before her. By this time, the remaining men had fallen well back, their eyes flickering up and down the street as if expecting more company, their expressions filled with mounting dread. They didn’t have to wait long. Two men raced into view. It was Shaun and Pat Flynn. Recognising them immediately, Barney’s friends turned to flee. No one in their right mind would pick a fight with any of the Flynn brothers, but to attempt to take on all three of them would be tantamount to suicide. Like the cowards they were, the men ran off, but they weren’t quick enough. While Rory took care of the ringleader, Shaun and Pat quickly caught up with Barney’s friends, and with a loud whoop of glee they proceeded to give the cowardly men a good hiding.
A passing policeman heard the commotion and walked towards the sound. Seeing the seven men brawling in the street brought the middle-aged sergeant’s eyebrows together. There was no mistaking the Flynn brothers, not with the red hair that identified the youngest and eldest boys. And where they were, Pat Flynn would be close by. He was the only one to take after his mother in looks and colouring. Taking a closer look, the sergeant saw a well-built man with black hair land a heavy punch on one man’s jaw while another clung to his back; but not for long. Pat looked over his shoulder and grinned before shrugging off his assailant with ease, sending him sprawling alongside his friend. The uniformed man smiled. That was Pat Flynn all right.
The police officer glanced from side to side to make sure no one had seen him before resuming his beat, his baton swinging idly in his sturdy hand. Once, many years ago, he would have launched into the fray, but he was getting too old for that kind of lark any more. Whistling cheerfully, he walked on, glad he had grown out of the idealism that had made him join the police force. The men back there were more than capable of looking after themselves.
By now Rory had Barney by the throat, and the man was making a stomach-turning gurgling sound.
‘You filthy piece of scum,’ Rory yelled. ‘You wanna fight, come on then, I’m ready, or d’yer only pick on girls?’
‘Rory! Rory! Let him go… Let him go, Rory, you’re choking him.’ Jane was pulling desperately at her brother’s arm, but she could have been a fly for all the notice her brother took of her. Barney’s hands beat Rory about the head in a frantic attempt to loosen the stranglehold, but his attacker took no heed. Sobbing with fear now, Jane called to Pat and Shaun, who were thoroughly enjoying giving the other three men a sound thrashing. Shaun, holding one of the men in a headlock, was the first to hear his sister’s cries, and, knowing his eldest brother’s temper, quickly released his hold, letting the bruised man fall with total indifference, and raced to Jane’s side.
‘That’s enough, man… I said, that’s enough,’ he shouted, grabbing Rory by the arms. Shaun was a strong man, but it was only when Pat joined him that they were able to pull their enraged brother away from the choking man.
Barney Hobbs slumped down the wall, his breath coming in tortured gasps. Held firmly by his brothers, Rory, his eyes blazing, shouted at the slumped figure, ‘You can count yerself lucky, Hobbs. Next time I catch yer near my sister, yer won’t get off so lightly.’ He managed one last kick at the prostrate body before being dragged away.
‘Jasus, man, what’s the matter with you?’ Shaun was shouting at him. ‘I’ve no time for Barney Hobbs either, an’ he deserved a good hiding for frightening our Jane, but God Almighty, Rory, you nearly killed the man.’
But Rory wasn’t listening. Instead his gaze was still focused on the bruised and bloodied man getting to his feet. Which was just as well, for if he had looked behind him all hell would have broken loose once more, and not even his brothers’ combined strength could have held on to him. Barney was on his feet now, wiping the blood from his swollen lips – lips that were spread into a mocking grin. Shaun and Pat tentatively loosened their grip on Rory while at the same time following Barney’s gaze. And what they saw brought a knowing look to their eyes and a muttered oath to their lips. For there, across the road, her face clearly showing her amusement beneath a fancy white parasol, was Cathy Meadows.
Seeing the three men watching her, Cathy arched her eyebrows mockingly, before walking slowly away, her hips swaying provocatively beneath her long blue dress, a dress that was designed to show off her voluptuous figure. Jane too had seen the woman who had turned their family upside down, and just managed to stop herself from drawing Rory’s attention to the retreating figure. He mustn’t see that woman, not now, not after all this time. Not now he was just beginning to get on with his life. Jane and the rest of the family had thought Rory had finally put behind him the memory of Cathy Meadows, and the cruel and public humiliation she had caused him by dumping him for Barney Hobbs.
Tears began to well behind Jane’s eyes. Judging by the brutal attack Rory had let loose on Barney, it was obvious he still hadn’t forgotten Cathy, or fo
rgiven the man she had dumped him for. He would still have given Barney a good slap for what he had done to his sister, but what Jane had witnessed had gone much further than a simple act of brotherly loyalty. If Shaun and Pat hadn’t been there, Rory could well have killed Barney Hobbs, and that awful thought brought a fresh burst of terror to her shaking body.
What she mustn’t do was tell her brothers, or anyone else, that Cathy had appeared across the road just moments before her brothers, and hadn’t lifted a finger to help her. Jane Flynn hadn’t a spiteful bone in her body, which considering the cruel trick life had played on her was remarkable in itself, for many people in her circumstances used their infirmity to justify their surly attitude towards those who, to their mind, were normal. Yet Jane had never been one to feel animosity towards her fellow man, but in Cathy Meadows’ case she was willing to make an exception. For that woman had done the unforgivable: she had hurt Rory and nearly driven a wedge between him and their mother. Please God, she prayed quietly, don’t let her be back for good. Let it be that she’s just home to visit her parents. Though that notion was unlikely. Cathy wasn’t the type to have family ties, not unless it was to her advantage. A burst of hope rose in Jane’s breast. Maybe that was it. Maybe she had come home to try and get some money out of her long-suffering parents before disappearing again. Oh! Please! Please let that be the case.
Taking the now calm Rory by the arm, she made sure she kept his attention on her and said softly, ‘Come on, Rory, let’s go home. Mum will be wondering where we are. And you know what she’s like if we’re late for our dinner.’ Rory glanced down at his sister with a stab of guilt. He had almost forgotten about her, and she was the one who had suffered most from the unpleasant incident. Pulling her close to his chest, he hugged her tight.
‘You all right, sweetheart?’ he asked tenderly. Then, pushing her back so he could see her face, he asked, ‘He didn’t… I mean, he didn’t hurt you in any way, did he? ’Cos if he did…’
