Saving Christmas in the Little Irish Village (The Little Irish Village #5)

Chapter 13

13

Kitty Kelly was sitting alone at the kitchen table, pondering a crossword, when Hannah slid silently into the room. It seemed sleep had also eluded her this evening. The only sound aside from the ticking of the wall clock was Princess Leia’s snuffling snores from her basket, so when one of the floorboards let out a particularly loud creak as Hannah approached, Kitty jumped and dropped the pen she’d been twirling thoughtfully around her fingers.

‘Jesus, Mary and Joseph! Hannah, what are you playing at sneaking around the house in the dead of night?’ Kitty kept her voice low, obviously not wanting to wake those sleeping upstairs.

‘Sorry, Nan. I didn’t mean to give you a fright. I couldn’t sleep either.’ Hannah, catching her nan’s gaze straying to her hair, half-heartedly smoothed it down. Tossing and turning like she’d been doing for the last hour wasn’t conducive to salon style.

‘I gathered that. Is it the fish-and-chip supper sitting like a lead balloon in your belly, too? Or are you excited about Christmas? You were always a divil to settle this time of year when you were small.’ Kitty’s smile was nostalgic.

‘It’s neither of those. And your man upstairs is taking the shine off the festive season for me. He’s a reminder of everything we stand to lose.’ Hannah continued to loiter, fiddling with the tie of her dressing gown.

‘Well, come sit down and close that door behind you. You weren’t born in a tent.’ Kitty’s bright blue eyes doubled in size, and picking up her pen, she whispered excitedly, ‘I’ve got it. Another word for tent, six down, seven letters. Bivouac!’ She hastily jotted it into the squares while Hannah did as she was told.

‘Do you want another brew, Nan?’ Hannah filled the kettle.

‘No. You’re grand. I’ll only be up and down for the loo all night. Sort yourself out, then come and tell me what’s after keeping you from a good night’s sleep.’

Hannah opted for hot chocolate, craving sweetness. She helped herself to a big spoonful of Mam’s Galaxy Light, added a drop of milk once the water had boiled and joined her nan at the table.

Kitty was eyeing her speculatively, and the magazine with the crossword was now closed. ‘You were very friendly with that man supposedly taking the shine off the festive season for you tonight.’ There was an accusatory note to her voice. ‘Is it him you’ve got on your mind?’

‘Tom?’ Hannah blew on her drink, knowing full well who her nan was talking about.

‘I didn’t see you whiling away the evening with any other young men.’

‘It wasn’t what it looked like, Nan.’

‘Oh?’

‘No. I’ve a conflict of interest where Tom Flynn’s concerned, as you know.’

‘Then what were you up to hanging off his every word?’

Hannah scalded her mouth on the too-hot drink and scowled into the mug of brown liquid. She’d feel better if she came clean, and she pondered where to start, settling on Dylan.

‘Nan, there’s this fella at work called Dylan. He’s like me, passionate about things.’

‘I’ve heard you mention him, and by passionate, I assume you mean tying himself to trees and the like.’

It wasn’t how Hannah would have described it, but she nodded anyway. ‘Well, Dylan pointed out the newspaper article about the interest in developing the famine cottage land to me in the first place. He thinks it’s wrong, too, and he wants to help us. Nan, the project won’t get past first base with him on our side.’

‘So this Dylan you work for told you to pretend to be all friendly like with our guest upstairs to find out who’s employed him. Is that right?’

Hannah shifted uncomfortably because hearing it said out loud like so didn’t make her feel too clever.

Kitty’s lips flatlined. ‘That’s underhanded and not very nice behaviour, Hannah. I’m surprised at you.’

‘I know that. It didn’t sit well with me either, but sometimes, if you’re to make a difference, you’ve got to do things that make you uncomfortable.’

‘Poppycock!’ Kitty’s teacup rattled in her saucer as she set it down with more force than necessary. ‘And are those your words or your Dylan’s ones, young lady?’

‘Shush, Nan, you’ll wake the others, and they’re mine.’ Hannah had almost convinced herself this was the case. She reached for a piece of the Christmassy shortbread that was always on hand this time of year. Kitty was quicker, however, sliding the ancient Tupperware container out of reach.

‘You’ll not have a shortbread until you’ve explained yourself because you were raised better than that, Hannah Kelly.’

‘That’s not fair.’ Hannah meant this in response to not just the shortbread being snatched from her but also her nan’s words. ‘You’re as against this Greenhouse as I am.’

Kitty’s expression didn’t change, and Hannah sighed. ‘It backfired on me anyway because I might strongly disagree with Tom’s job here in Emerald Bay, but I liked him. I didn’t expect that to happen.’

Kitty remained silent for a few ticks of the clock, and when she finally spoke up, she said, ‘I see what you mean regarding a conflict of interest.’ The Tupperware slid toward her.

Hannah helped herself. ‘Nan, can I ask you something?’

‘That depends on what it is.’

‘What did you mean when you said the abandoned farm should be left alone with its ghosts?’

Stories about the farm and the old cottage being haunted were folklore in Emerald Bay, or so Hannah had thought. Daring one another to go there and play Ghostbusters was a rite of passage for the village’s young people.

‘I feel Finbar when I go there, Hannah.’ Kitty looked up then with a distant look in her sharp blue eyes.

‘I didn’t know you went there, Nan.’

Kitty nodded. ‘The cottage was our special place. Mine and your grandfather’s.’

Surprise registered because this was the first she’d heard of it, but it explained Nan’s fervour that the cottage and land not be tampered with.

When nothing else was forthcoming, Hannah asked, ‘Would you tell me about you and Granddad, Nan? How did you meet?’ It had dawned on Hannah that was a story she’d never been told.

Kitty blinked, the present calling her back, and the faraway light in her eyes dimmed. ‘Ah, now it was all a long time ago.’

‘But I’d like to hear it.’ Hannah had only been young when her granddad passed. ‘It would help me know him better.’

‘You’re a good girl even if you do eejit things at times, but there’s none of us born perfect in this world, Hannah.’ She got up from the table, carrying her cup to the worktop. ‘I think I’d best top up my brew to tell you the tale.’