Charlotte took a deep breath before opening the bar door. Everyone was getting very jittery these days. There had been another shooting the night before when loyalist gunmen entered a bar in County Derry and opened fire, killing three people watching a football match on the tv and injuring several more. Charlotte had seen the look of fear in her mother’s eyes when she saw she was going out.

“Be careful,” she’d whispered as Charlotte picked up her guitar case and headed to the gig.

Fortunately, due to the lure of cheap beer and questionable music, the shooting hadn’t put too many people off from coming out. Charlotte stood on stage and wondered if the pile of amps would provide any cover in the event gunmen did enter. Then Jenny tapped out the intro to ‘Happy place’ and soon she was lost in the music.

As she came off stage, she bumped into Turlough.

“Hi you, you were great.”

“Thanks. I’m glad you came.”

“Yeah, I couldn’t get away earlier but I managed to catch most of your set.”

Charlotte smiled. She’d had no way of contacting Turlough unless she’d asked Dave and she wasn’t ready for the humiliation he would have put her through by making her beg for his number.

“I was hoping I’d bump into you again,” she whispered in his ear as she leaned in to kiss him. 

“Please, not here. Later.”

He looked around the bar and gently pushed Charlotte back. 

“I’ll get you a drink. Cider and black?”

“No, make it a purple nasty.”

Charlotte turned and stomped over to the table where Deirdre and Jenny were surreptitiously gazing into each other’s eyes while Emma snogged the face of Dave. 

She sat down and looked back at the bar. Turlough was getting served and she did like the look of his arse in those tight black jeans. Maybe he was just shy… Or maybe he had a girlfriend. Maybe that was why he was so worried about being seen?

Charlotte tried to stop her mind from going into overdrive and resolved to try and find out a bit more about her mystery man before things went any further. 

But then, when he came back to the table, one look of those smouldering dark eyes and any resolve she had went out the window. 

—-

“Do you know Dave’s got a spare room?”

Charlotte looked up at Turlough as the four of them walked along the deserted street back to Dave’s house. Charlotte and Emma were carrying their guitar cases while Dave and Turlough carried blue plastic bags containing the takeout cans they’d gotten from behind the bar at closing time. 

“Is that right?”

She bit her lip, determined to let him make the running. 

“It is. Just thought you should know.”

“That’s very thoughtful. I’ll keep it in mind next time I have a fight with me ma.”

Turlough grinned and stepped aside to let Charlotte follow Dave and Emma into Dave’s living room. 

After a few drinks and the obligatory argument over what music to play, Dave and Emma slipped off to the bedroom leaving Charlotte and Turlough alone. As Turlough moved in for a kiss, Charlotte put a hand on his chest. 

“Easy tiger. I don’t really know anything about you. I don’t even know where you live, or anything?”

“Do you want to know what my mother does too?”

Charlotte was about to retort when she realised he was grinning. 

“Ok,” he said. “I’m from Belfast. I was living in Derry for a while but am based mainly in Strabane now. And if you’re here, I’ll want to spend even more time here.”

He leaned in and kissed her and Charlotte decided that was almost enough questions for one night. 

“Did you remember the…?”

Turlough smiled, tapped his jacket pocket and with that, took Charlotte by the hand and led her upstairs to Dave’s spare room. 

Once the bedroom door closed, Turlough pushed her against it. He bent his head and kissed her hard on the mouth, his eyes locked on hers. The fingers of one hand snaked through her hair, holding her in place as his other hand slid over her breast and down to caress the curve of her hip. 

He smelt of cigarettes and alcohol and Charlotte wanted him. She ran her fingers down his front, unbuttoning the black army surplus shirt and revealing his toned, almost hairless chest. It glowed pale in the semi-darkness. The only light came from the streetlight outside. 

“We’d better keep the lights off,” Turlough whispered. “Dave hasn’t got round to putting curtains up yet.”

He released Charlotte’s hair and with a tug, pulled the black Lacy top over her head. Charlotte closed her eyes and sighed as Turlough kissed his way along her neck. 

With consummate ease, he had her bra unfastened and his mouth on a nipple before the bra hit the floor. His fingers dipped to pull the elasticated waist of her hippy skirt down over her hips and left it to pool around her ankles. 

Charlotte tugged his belt open and smirked at the groan Turlough made when she slid her fingers into his briefs and stroked his balls with a featherlight touch. 

He turned her snd pushed her onto the bed. As she bounced, he gripped the purple satin panties and tugged them down. She raised both legs into the air to help him take them off and with that, she was stripped naked, waiting for him.

She propped herself up on her elbows and watched as he pushed his jeans down and struggled to get his boots off. Finally, naked too, he crawled onto the bed and kissed her. He lay between her legs, his cock resting on her mound. It felt good. Big and hard. He wriggled his hips and dragged the head of his cock along her slit, sliding it up and over her clit.

He kissed her again then slowly worked his way down her neck and over her boobs as he teased her clit with the tip of his cock. She squirmed at his teasing. She could feel him grinning as he swirled his tongue around her nipple.

She opened her legs wider, pushing her hips up, trying to get his cock to slide down her slit and slip inside. He realised what she was doing and laughed.

“Don’t you want me to put a condom on first?”

“Fuck, hurry up then.”

She watched, biting her lip as he unrolled the rubber. It might have been her imagination but she was sure it was bigger than last week when she’d sucked him off. 

Then he was back on top of her and this time, there was no teasing. She spread her legs and felt him press inside. She arched her back as he filled her. Fuck, it’d been too long, Charlotte thought as she felt him stretch her velvet walls. She bucked her hips, trying to get into the same rhythm as him as he slid in and out.

He placed a hand on either side of Charlotte's head, keeping his weight off her body and pressed down on her with his groin. He filled and emptied her as he gazed into her eyes, watching her as he fucked her.

Charlotte wrapped her legs behind his back, her heels dug into his ass, pulling him in deeper.

“Don’t cum yet… don’t cum yet” Charlotte whispered in her head but it was no good. She could see Turlough’s eyes roll in his head and felt his cock jerk when he went rigid inside her.

He collapsed on top of her, his face buried in her neck. She could hear him pant as he struggled to get his breath back. Finally, he lifted his head, grinned, kissed her then rolled off her.

‘For fuck’s sake,’ Charlotte thought. ‘He’d better not fall asleep before I cum.’

“Oi!” Charlotte poked him in the ribs. “You haven’t finished yet.”

Turlough rolled his head to look at her.

“You’ll have to make me hard again then.”

Charlotte shook her head. 

“Maybe you can put your mouth to better use while I do then.”

She straddled him, lowering her pussy down onto his face as she settled into a 69.

She ran her fingers along his softening cock and unrolled the condom. She dropped it over the side of the bed and slowly eased the foreskin back up to cover the head. She dragged the tips of her fingers over his balls, letting the fingertip caresses slowly reawaken him.

She felt Turlough run his tongue along her slit. His fingers spread her open, thumbs brushed her labia as his tongue slurped her juices from her folds. He wasn’t the best. He wasn’t even in the same league as Chloe or Fiona but what he lacked in technique, he made up for with enthusiasm.

His tongue slurped and licked and teased her pussy as he squeezed her ass. She responded by taking the head of his cock in her mouth and began to gently suck. The spongy flaccid shaft began to harden as she held it between her fingers. As it hardened, she began to wank it. She sucked on the head and wanked the shaft, feeling it grow bigger and firmer. All the while, Turlough licked and lapped at her clit and pushed a finger inside her.

Charlotte fumbled for the packet of condoms that Turlough had left on the bed. Her fingers were slippery and the foil packet was hard to open. Finally, having ripped it with her teeth, she unrolled the condom onto Turlough’s now rock-hard cock.

She climbed off his face and turned around. Holding his cock with one hand so it pointed upwards, she slowly lowered herself down. She bit her lip and watched Turlough’s face as she slowly impaled herself on his cock.

It felt so good. She’d missed this. She needed this. A good hard fucking. Turlough lifted his hands and pawed at her tits. He squeezed and mauled them, his thumbs strumming her hard nipples as she bounced up and down on him.

He hadn’t grown as big as last time yet, but in this position, she was able to grind down and feel him fill her. Her clit rubbed against his pubes as he thrust up to meet her. 

She knew she was going to cum this time. She could feel it building. The previous fucking and then Turliough’s clit licking had got her so close.

“That’s it, harder,” she moaned. “Fuck me… harder... Fuck me.”

She shocked herself at the words coming out of her mouth. She used to be so demure, embarrassed about having sex but not any more. She bounced faster on his cock. She could hear a squelching noise as she bounced. She could feel her juices oozing out of her and trickling down her thighs and over his balls.

He increased the pace. His hips bounced faster and faster off the bed, every thrust upwards buried his cock deeper inside her. Her mind swam. She could hear someone shouting “FUCK FUCK FUCK” from far away and then she exploded.

Afterwards, she crawled off him and curled into a ball on the bed. He lay behind her and spooned into her. His fingers brushed the hair back from the nape of her neck and she squirmed at the sensations as he slowly kissed his way up and down her spine. 

She took his hand and squeezed it, placing it against her breast as she closed her eyes.

“Fuck.. fuck.. Fuck”

Charlotte woke up from a deep sleep. Turlough was hopping on one foot, trying to pull his jeans on.

“I fell asleep. Fuck, I’m so dead.”

He fastened his jeans and pulled on his shirt.

“I got to go. See you later.”

He leant down, kissed her on the forehead then left.

Charlotte lay in bed and listened to the front door slam. She had no idea what time it was. The sun was up but the street seemed quiet. She figured she may as well go home too since she was already awake and could feel the beginnings of a hangover. Maybe a glass of water and a wee walk to clear her head might be the perfect answer.

As she filled the glass at the kitchen sink, according to the kitchen clock, it was a quarter past seven. Turlough hadn’t said what his job was but he probably started at seven, Charlotte figured. She picked up her guitar case and headed home. She cursed the fact she’d promised to cover Emma’s shift today when she could really do with some last-minute revision before the exams started next week.

Walking through the streets, she noticed the flags were out. It was almost Marching Season and newly purchased Union Jacks fluttered from lamposts, marking their territory. The tricolours could be seen in the distance, marking their territory too. She’d been confused when the Palestinian and Israeli flags had begun appearing too. Dave had explained to her that the Republicans supported the PLO and the Arabs in their fight with the Israeli occupiers, seeing them as kindred spirits. In response, the Unionists had started flying the Star of David. It was all a bit fucked up, to be honest, she thought.

She met the postman at the end of her drive and when she got inside, discovered two letters waiting for her. They were postmarked Belfast and London and as her stomach dropped, she remembered the offers of places at Art College were due out this week.

She couldn’t decide which to open first. At that instant, she realised she wanted to go to Belfast. Any lingering doubts evaporated. Turlough was a good fuck, Fiona was beautiful but she wanted Chloe.

She took the letter from London and opened it. 

“Dear Charlotte, blah blah blah, we are pleased to offer you…”

Charlotte put the letter down on the table and picked up the letter postmarked Belfast. Slowly, she slid a finger into the gap and tore the envelope open. She unfolded the letter and scanned the text.

“Thank you for attending… we would like…. offer you a place.”

“Yessssssss,” Charlotte screamed and danced around the kitchen. She reread the letter. There was no mistake. She’d got in.

“What’s going on?”

Charlotte turned to see her mum and dad standing in the kitchen doorway. Her mum still pulling on her dressing gown and her dad rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“It’s Saturday morning. What are you doing up?”

“I got in,” Charlotte cried, handing them the letter. She continued to dance around the kitchen while her parents read. They looked up and her mum stepped forward and gave Charlotte a hug.

“I’m so proud of you,” she whispered, “but maybe you should change out of last night’s clothes before you go to work?”

“Yes, mum,” Charlotte grinned and headed upstairs.

—-

The threatened hangover never materialised and Charlotte was counting down the minutes til closing time when she noticed a commotion outside the shop door. She could see a couple arguing and was shocked to realise the man was Turlough. The woman he was arguing with was pushing a baby’s buggy. 

She watched, dumbfounded as the woman gripped Turlough’s wrist and pulled it off the buggy handle. She turned the buggy and drove it towards the door of the music shop. 

The bell jangled as the woman strode in. The buggy wheels rattled on the concrete floor. She steered the buggy sideways just before it crashed into the counter. It was then that Charlotte realised the woman was heavily pregnant. The distended stomach protruded out from her open coat. 

Charlotte was vaguely aware of Turlough following her into the shop but she couldn’t drag her eyes off the woman. 

“Are you Charlotte?”

Charlotte nodded. Her brain was whirling trying to piece everything together: the panic that he’d fallen asleep this morning, the coming snd going unannounced, even moving the glasses away from the edge of the table. Even before the woman spoke she knew Turlough was the father. 

The woman picked up a bright pink sippy cup from the buggy and opened the lid. The scent of urine only registered after the contents of the cup splashed across her face. As the piss dripped down her face, she heard the woman screaming how Turlough was her man and no fucking whore was going to take him from her. 

Later, Charlotte could think of twenty witty responses she could have told the woman. But at the time, she just stood there as the piss ran down her face. 

She saw Turlough shrug in apology before following the woman out of the shop. Charlotte watched the door close behind them before slowly turning and meeting the gaze of the three or four people browsing the guitars. 

She wiped the piss from each eyebrow, aware of the stench of urine permeating the room. Without saying a word, she turned and walked into the back room. 

Dave glanced up and started to speak but Charlotte just held up her hand to silence him 

“Just watch the shop, Dave.”

It was only in the privacy of the staff toilet that she let the tears come. 

—-

Charlotte was home, showered and changed and wrapped up in her dressing gown reading a book on the Bleu Reuters when her mum knocked on the door. 

“There’s a man at the door to see you.”

Charlotte got up and peeked down the stairs. Turlough was standing on the doorstep. 

Charlotte rolled her eyes. 

“Tell him I’ll be down in a minute.”

She pulled off her pyjamas and tugged on a tee shirt and skirt and headed down to see him. 

Charlotte opened her mouth to speak but Turlough held up his hands. 

“Not here. Can we go for a drive and chat?”

He gestured to the green car parked on the street. Charlotte glanced back and saw a flicker of movement as her mother pressed herself more into the kitchen, still trying to eavesdrop. She nodded and followed him down the drive. 

Charlotte sat in the car. She didn’t know where to start. Finally, she settled for “what the fuck, Turlough?“

“I’m sorry.” 

He went silent, concentrating on driving as innocently as possible as they approached an army checkpoint. After showing his license, he was waved on with a “carry on, Sir.”

After a few minutes of silence, Charlotte realised they were heading across the border. 

“Where are we going?”

“Just somewhere quiet we can talk,”

“Is there much to say?”

“I want to explain.”

Charlotte wanted to explode. How could he keep quiet the fact he was married – had children?

Turlough stopped as they approached the border checkpoint. She remembered crossing here with Fiona. The heady excitement of that day in the graveyard. 

She scanned the checkpoint. The soldiers carrying their guns, checking the drivers' licenses. She watched the builder's van approaching from the other direction. 

She looked back at Turlough. He kept his eyes fixed straight ahead, not looking at the soldier as the car registration was called out to be checked against the computer. 

She noticed the driver of the builder's van had his window wound down and was shouting something at the soldier manning that side of the checkpoint. 

Charlotte watched the soldier wheel around in panic, his mouth was open in a silent scream.  She glanced back at the driver. Their eyes connected and then there was a flash of white light. 

——

Good morning, you’re listening to Morning Ireland on RTE radio one. Here is the news at seven o’clock. There’s been widespread condemnation following the massive bomb attack at the camel's hump checkpoint just outside Strabane in County Tyrone last night. A builder supplying materials to the security forces was kidnapped by the IRA and forced to drive a bomb to the border checkpoint. The bomb exploded killing himself, four soldiers and the occupants of a car travelling in the opposite direction. The occupants are believed to be a twenty-three-year-old male and his eighteen-year-old female passenger. The bombing brings the number killed so far this year to ninety-seven.