Chapter 5

The following day they visited Belfast, it was an easy day of shopping, wandering and noticing the differences to their home town – subtle (shops took Euros, different shops like Dunnes Stores) and less so (police with guns, some police Landrovers still on the streets). This time they bought some food and returned to the caravan to cook and eat later

They had a bottle of wine and a Daim Bar Cake to follow.

So they were back quite early, the tide was in. The weather was sunny. There was a sandy beach ‘round the corner’. They went for a swim. The water was not warm. It would never be warm in Northern Ireland, but they found a sheltered spot on the beach, and some other people wondered if they were all a family. A couple of young man tried to introduce themselves to the three sirens dressed in bikinis – sensible swimming bikinis, not sun-tanning ones, but pretty sexy for all that; but they made no progress. Amelie suggested that the four came back later, at night, for a midnight skinny dip.

“Amelie, it’s probably a prison offence to swim naked here. Mum told me that they chain the swings up on Sundays; this is not a place for fun.” Mary suggested.

“Ohh pooo! They haven’t done that for years. They used to, but not since ... maybe the 1970s? I mean, North and South have caught up with the rest of the world in lots of ways now. You need to read modern rather than ancient history.”

“haha, you an expert are you?” Rupert asked, but they could tell, actually. Amelie was interested in modern life, in the sociology of society; he envied her that she knew what she was interested in, he still had no idea. She had read about the Magdalene Homes, the civil rights movement, the voting laws, the gerrymandering; and about ‘The Troubles’; but she wasn’t interested in the history of the violence that so many commentaries focussed on, she was interested in how it had affected, influenced, and formed the society that existed now. In her bikini (and out of it), she was a stunningly good looking girl – they all were – but she had a really good brain inside too. That was something Rupert appreciated, and something some good looking boys back at school failed to appreciate. Admiring her looks was never going to be enough to get into her pants.

They returned to the caravan and all decided to help with the cooking, which meant they all got in each others way. Finally Rupert shooed them all out, and finished the cooking on his own. Amelie stuck her head round the door and asked if she could get the knives and forks, glasses etc. He gave her a kiss on the cheek. “That would be helpful, thanks.”

They worked together, and then all of them ate the meal. It was nothing particularly special, but it was nice just being together. As Amelie said “It was nice to be able to be together in comfortable surroundings where they could stand up straight, cook a meal indoors, and eat at a table.” Norfolk Broads had been none of those things, though it had been very good fun for all of them.

The next day they were up early and dressed. The next two nights would be in the hotel in Ballymoney, or just outside. It had proved cheaper to book a caravan for a week and leave it for two days than trying anything more complicated. The plan was to have a kind of stag and hen night combined in Ballymoney, which was not renowned for its wild nightlife; but Sinead and Sammy were happy with that. Neither wanted to end up at their wedding feeling like they’d rather die after a drinking session the previous evening. The following night was to be in the same hotel for many of the guests so no driving was necessary. Sinead and Samuel would slip away the following day before anybody was up. That was the plan; Mary and Amelie were already planning to be up and ready to throw rice at the departing couple.

Rupert and Abigail were dropped at the hotel, then Mary drove over to collect Mr and Mrs Craft from the airport. They were staying one night, flying back after the wedding. Mairead would have liked to have stayed longer, but Michael wasn’t fussed and she thought it wouldn’t be nice to send him home alone. They were duly impressed that their daughter found the George Best airport with no problems and was waiting with her sister for them to appear. Driving out again, Michael took the wheel. He promptly got into the wrong lane, missed the M2 and ended up driving up Shankhill Road – both Mairead and Michael were convinced they would be stopped at any moment, whilst Mary and Amelie were fascinated by all around them. Of course nothing happened. This wasn’t the 1970s, and even then nothing would have happened, probably.

They arrived back at the hotel. “Well, well, hello! I hear you’ve all been enjoying yourself? A caravan? Well, I remember having a holiday in a caravan, it was wonderful, great fun.”

“Dad! It rained the whole time, Mum threw a saucepan of rice pudding at you, the farmer owned a huuuge Alsation which terrified us.” Mary said. Amelie looked bemused, she couldn’t remember anything of this because she was three.

“Hello, sir. Yes, great fun so far.” Rupert responded.

The Craft’s went upstairs to wash and get changed for the trip out. It was to be a pub crawl for all of the close friends and family. Mairead, of course, was not looking forward to it. She couldn’t drink; her husband claimed to be looking forward to it, remembering the last stag do he had been on, fifteen years ago (Mairead had had to collect him from the local police station after he had been found drunk and unable to say who he was – they had found his wallet with a telephone number in it). He was convinced he was a carouser, a party animal, a crazy dude.

They all met up and Michael ‘suggested’ to his younger daughter that she shouldn’t drink too much “I know you are under age, but I’m sure it would be fine if you had a small glass of wine or two.”

“Thanks Dad, I’ll be really careful.”

“Michael, she could probably drink you under the table.” Mairead said. Her husband looked surprised; but he was surprised that she didn’t realise how young and innocent Amelie was, not surprised that he had misjudged his daughter. It was he who was still innocent.

The whole band set off and headed off to the first bar. It would be a long night for some. Hutchinson’s Bar welcomed them all and served up Guinness, white wine spritzers, and a J2O. They drank, sang a song; the bar congratulated Sinead and Samuel, a second round was ordered. They even sang The Wild Rover; then it was off to a new bar. Michael was finding things a little confusing.

In The Celtic – the most republican bar in Ballymoney – Sammy felt a little worried. A large man with a scar across his face and a tattoo on one arm – Tiocfaidh ár lá; and on the other 26+6=1 – walked up to Sammy, “Sure you’ve picked a fine girl. So yer have. I’ll buy yer a Jameson.” It wasn’t an offer to be refused. Sammy found himself drinking a toast to all the bonny girls of Ireland; he reckoned he could drink that toast happily. After a couple more drinks, he and his friends were happily singing Follow Me Up To Carlow.

By that time, Mairead had had enough and was walking back to the hotel, she had suggested to Michael that she needed him to help her back. Actually it was him who was leaning on her. He had just commented that “Those poleeshmen musht be brothersh.” There was only one policeman, standing watching them with a smile. He fell into a deep sleep in a chair in their room, which suited Mairead, who was happy to have the space in the bed.

Nuala was Sinead’s sister, seven years older. She downed another whiskey and coke; nope, it still didn’t dull the pain. She ordered another. “Are you okay?” Rupert asked, “You look ... less than happy at your sister’s last night of freedom.”

“Fuck off.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to annoy you.”

“No, I’m sorry. I’m just not good company at the moment.”

“I could agree, but you’d shout at me. Here, let me get that.” He paid for her drink. “Is that a thing? Whisky and coke?”

“The whiskey dulls the pain, the coke keeps me awake.”

“Is it that bad. Oh shit! They’re going to sing again. Can we go outside?”

“You don’t like the singing? Ohhh! Yes, they are a bit off key. Come on, bring your drink.” They went out. “Better?”

“Yes, so ... What’s up?”

“Nothing is fucking up. What’s up with you?”

“Nothing at all. I can tell you aren’t happy, that’s all. I just want to help.” At that moment, the whole crowd came out of the bar and turned down the road towards the next stop. No-one noticed the two of them. Rupert looked at Nuala and was about to suggest they tag along when a tear rolled down her cheek. He touched her face with a finger and scooped up the tear. “I don’t know you, you’ve never met me. We’ll probably never meet again. I’m a good listener?”

“She ... she’s eighteen! Seven years younger than me! She’s getting married, having a honeymoon and everything. It’s so unfair.”

“What is? I don’t understand.”

“Of course you bloody don’t. You’ve probably had loads of girls, you’re a Prod.” which sounded just a little judgemental, even if it was true that he had had a few girls, and that he was a protestant (in name at least). “Sorry, I just ... it’s not right. I waited and waited and waited. And now SHE’s getting married and SHE’s gonna be first. It’s NOT BLOODY F-” she stopped talking as he kissed her. She was surprised.

“Sorry. It seemed the easiest way to shut you up. You were getting loud. You probably don’t want to tell the whole of Ballymoney that you’re still a virgin.” He’d understood that, at least.

Nuala wasn’t bad looking. She wasn’t as shapely as her sister, she wasn’t as clear skinned, she didn’t walk with an air of sex appeal. Her hair wasn’t quite right. As Sinead had grown beyond twelve, it had become obvious that Sinead had the looks and the style. It was unfortunate that their family often complimented Sinead on how good she looked. The lack of compliments for Nuala hurt; people didn’t realise. Now she was feeling that she was turning into an old maid. She was twenty five, and her sister was going to lose her cherry before she, Nuala, did.

“I ... I could help?”

“How? Oh, look. I’m not fucking desperate. You want to fuck me and then tell everybody how I begged you?”

“No, I’m not like that.”

“You want to take advantage of me? I’m not drunk you know.”

“Good. If you were, I wouldn’t suggest it. It’s risky, these days, taking a drunk girl to bed. But ... well I’m single. No girlfriend. You’re single, no boyfriend. We owe nobody anything. And I’ve been told I’m quite good.”

“You arrogant bastard!”

“Is it arrogance if it’s true? Yes, I suppose it is. Well, you’ll never know unless you find out, will you?” He was smiling. It was, she decided, a kindly smile.

“Well, suppose we go back to the hotel for a nightcap and get to know each other a little better?”

The next morning, the phone rang in his room. “Rupe! Rupe! She’s gone!” Mary was all but shouting.

“Sinead’s run off? What? Have they eloped?”

“No, her sister. Nuala. She’s vanished. The hairdresser is here and needs to do her hair. She’s not in her room, she’s not anywhere.”

“Relax. Tell them that she’ll be along soon.”

“Rupe? Where ... oh fuck! You have got to be joking.”

“Just tell them.” He hung up.

Beside him a naked girl was staring up at him, she pulled the covers up to cover her breasts. “Who was that?”

“Mary, suggesting that you might like to get ready for a wedding.”

“We’ve got time. One more for the road?”

“Nuala, you have worn me out. Seriously. Shower! Now!” He grabbed her arm and dragged her naked body to the bathroom. She smelled of sweat, female leakage, male spunk, and a couple of other smells that were the result of the extended session that night; but mostly she smelled of sweat.

He pushed her in and turned the shower on, it took a little while to run warm, but he wouldn’t let her out. He held her, his body getting cold too. Then he soaped her entire body. If he couldn’t manage any more sex (and that was true), he could manage to finger her front and back to clean her out. His hands gave her too much stimulation and she started to pee. “OMG! You’ve turned me into a slut. Ahhh!”

“Don’t stop.” He pushed a second soapy finger into her rectum just for fun.

When they had got back to the hotel, they had ordered two drinks and then decided to take them upstairs to bed with them. She had decided to accept his offer. She was expecting a quick, drunken fuck that would at least mean she was first. Instead he lay her on the bed, taking the glass from her hand, and then pulled her pants and tights down from under her skirt. His hand started to stroke her. “Shouldn’t I take them off? I can’t open my legs.”

“Good. Just relax, and trust me. I’m here to make you happy.”

“I want you to be happy too. I want ... I want to do all that stuff that people say.”

“What stuff?”

“You know, everything.” She mumbled something after that which he didn’t catch. “Just do it. I want to be first. Okay?” Sinead had hinted, privately, to Abigail that she had sucked off Sammy as well as given him hand jobs. Since it was private, Abi had only told Mary in the strictest confidence. Mary couldn’t keep it from her sister but told her it was a secret. So Amelie only told Rupert. Rupert had already heard from Sammy direct in any case. He was an odd boy, Sammy. He was quiet and secretive, but every now and then he’d get totally blotto at parties and would talk about all sorts. Rupert knew that he had not been allowed to even touch Sinead ‘down below’, but sucking her tits was okay. He knew that Sammy had dropped his trousers in the park and ‘let her suck my cock’. Rupert even knew that the first time, Sammy had intended to pull out (Sinead didn’t want her mouth filled with spunk) but had been taken by surprise and had been too late; Sinead had pulled off and her face was sprayed with white globules. She took a lot of calming down apparently. Rupert said nothing about all this. He carried on stroking Nuala.