One of Those Nights

"I'll not have you touchin' my little girl!" He grabbed his daughter roughly and a little too familiarly around the waist and hips. "Not when I myself have barely---"

He caught himself just as someone playing an organ offstage hit about fourteen keys simultaneously, musically (if not exactly euphoniously) underlining the shock registering on the faces of those present. Violet's eyes were darting left and right and even -- as a tiny figure scampered by her, headed into the pub -- downwards for a sec. Sister Margaret looked as though she was about to pop Jack one in the snoot. Joe's mother fell backwards through the door still swinging from the dwarf's passage.

And from the alley came a roar: Bill, unleashed by fury, of a sudden moved by hatred of his rival more than he was content to let his disappointment of a son be beaten to death, it was Bill now leaping into the fray.

"He'll be touchin' whatever he wants to touch, Jack McGilligan," Bill's voice boomed, "and whoever come to that!"

Sister Margaret, cool as usual but a little disoriented by the turn of events, turned and popped not Jack but Bill in the snoot, and the old drunk crumpled to a heap there on the sidewalk. The organist, having dropped and then reassembled the sheet music for all this month's shows, struck up "Do Not Forsake Me Oh My Darling." It was a weird but not-bad selection.

Violet writhed out of Jack's grasp and bolted into the pub. Sister Margaret, rubbing her knuckles, seemed to forget her position for a moment. "What," she wondered aloud, "what in the hell

Violet and Joe had spent the day alone, frolicking on the beach, wandering through the woods looking for soft spots to lay, doing things that came naturally to two young, handsome, virile specimens. He didn't know about Vi, but he was dizzy with her nearness. Every time she leaned in to brush sand from his shoulder or kiss his ear, he felt as if his mind was floating 6 inches above his body.

But the day had to end, and then came the night.

Joe was walking Violet to the McGilligans where she was supposed to help her mother with the bar that night. Violet's steps slowed as they got closer to the pub.

"My father doesn't like you, Joe." Violet said.

His heart, which had been like a balloon in the sky all day long with her sunk like a lead weight. "He doesn't?"

She shook her head and looked away.

He knew there was something about him that made a person not like him. First his father left him, then his mother drank herself into oblivion so she didn't have to be his mother. Then Father Donohoe and Sister Margaret, and all the other adults of the village looked askance at him. And now Jack McGilligan? After all those dinners he'd had pulled up to Mr McGilligan's table along with his passel of kids, an extra son he'd been almost. And now he was now despised. He should have expected it. There was something wrong with Joe. Something inherently defective.

The only thing Joe really had was Violet.

"I don't think you should take me into the Pub, Joe. Maybe we should just say goodnight now."

They had stopped walking across the street from the pub. He turned to look at her. Her pale blond hair framed the heartbreakingly perfect face, the dark blue eyes, large and almond shaped, with the thickest lashes he had ever seen, and the rosy mouth, pink and full and so luscious it reminded him of things he shouldn't be thinking about in this conversation. He was mesmerized by her beauty. He felt trapped in a spell.

"I love you, Violet." It was the first time he had said it, although it had been burning in his heart all summer.

She looked afraid. For just a moment. Then she smiled. "Joe, I..." he saw a sadness in her eyes. Tears formed. He knew she loved him too, why did he have the feeling that she wasn't going to say it back? "I--" she stuttered, glancing toward the pub. "I love you to." The words came out in a rush, as if she didn't want anyone to hear them, to have evidence. But then, that moment, the moment that Joe would think back on for the next 7 years, it seemed to disappear as Violet threw her arms passionately around Joe and they kissed as if it was death not to.

"Violet Bridget McGilligan!" Jack's booming voice echoes across the empty street and Vi and Joe stepped apart. "I told you I did not want you doing this! I told you to leave that boy alone!"

Joe took in a deep breath and stepped forward. "I love your daughter, Mr McGilligan. I want to marry her."

"Joe!" Violet gasped as Jack's angry face got redder, almost purple.

"Violet!" Jack roared. "I. Said. To. Leave. This. Boy. Alone."

The yelling must have drawn attention from inside, because the front door opened and out poured the entire village, including his mother and, most improbably, Sister Margaret.

Bitsy and Wilma

Were in Liverpool, both driving trucks for a local haulage company. The boss loved Bill like his own son, and had them on an easy route down to Suffolk. One of the stops was picturesque village, where Jack had fallen in love with a pretty florists daughter, named Elizabeth. He called her Bitsy. And she had hair like spun gold and the sweetest disposition any one had ever seen.

Bill's wife Wilma was pregnant. She was the light of his life.

He was thankful every day that Wilma agreed to leave the circus to be with him. He couldn't believe that someone as beautiful as she, the trick rider, dancing on the back of a herd of horses in her spangles and ribbons, wanted to be with him, but she did.

Most people run away to the circus when they want a new life, Wilma had run away from the circus. She said her da would hate that she wanted to be one of the regular people, and that was why she had to cut him out of her life. Just leave the circus behind for good, even though he saw her, looking wistfully at the posters on the walls, every time the circus came to town.

She said he was making it up, and all she really wanted was to live in a small town with him, have his baby, and be ordinary. The boss said he'd bankroll a truck depot down there in Suffolk, and put his best guys in charge.

Everything was starting to come together like a dream, until

'Why don't you just go back to wherever you came from, eh Joe?' Violet's father squared up to him. He had always been shorter than him, but with the solid pugnacious strength of a bulldog. Joe didn't move.
'This is my home Jack,' he took a sip of the single malt Clive had poured for him. Randy hid his face, disappearing into the shadows of the bar now.
'It was your home,' Jack's moustache bristled above chipped teeth, stained from years of tobacco.
'No,' Joe took a deep breath, placed the glass on the bar, slipped the key from his pocket. 'It is my home,' he said slowly turning it in his fingers.
'Please Daddy ...' Violet cut in. She thought of all those lonely nights she had spent alone. He was back now, she could make it good again if only her father would leave it to her to break the news.



'Oh, so now your Momma's died, you've come back for the money like the big fella is that how it is?'
'No sir, it's not like that at all.' Joe's eyes focussed resolutely on the key in his hand.
'Then what is it? Why are you back here when we ...' Jack glanced at his daughter. 'When everyone has written you off?'
'This is my home,' he said quietly.
'If this is your home,' Jack raged, 'then what the hell are you going to do about your baby ...'