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

Chapter 16

16

Hannah was sitting cross-legged on her bed, putting the finishing touches to the petition she’d drawn up because even though Dylan had said she’d be wasting her time, she needed to take action to stop the Greenhouse project. It was personal now. She was doing it for Nan and her granddad. Besides, Dylan was in no position to help. Sonya had texted her not long after she’d stomped upstairs to tell her he’d been arrested at the Climate Guardians rally last night for causing intentional property damage. The group’s lawyer was on to it, Sonya had reassured her.

The news had left her feeling unsettled. Smashing windows and the like, which was what had happened when the rally got out of hand, wasn’t her style, especially so close to Christmas, the so-called season of peace and goodwill. But rather than dwell on it, she’d decided to get the ball rolling. Nan could take the petition to her craft group during the week – she’d be bound to garner plenty of signatures there.

Her mind flicked to Tom. So far, she’d got nowhere trying to pump him for information, although he might have dropped a clue as to who was behind the Greenhouse when he’d pointed out that she didn’t know for sure his client wasn’t local. There was no one in the village she could think of who would have the wherewithal to take on a project of that scale, though.

Now she uncrossed her legs and got up, stashing the clipboard with the attached piece of paper she intended to fill with signatures in her satchel before venturing downstairs.

‘Is that yer man off to conquer Everest under all those layers or my daughter Hannah?’ Nora asked as she dumped the satchel beside the sideboard.

‘You missed your calling, Mam,’ Hannah said as she took in the cosy scene. ‘You should have been a stand-up comedian.’

There was no sign of her dad or nan, but Mam was enjoying a cup of tea with the man who was trying to spoil Christmas.

That wasn’t all. Her eyes widened as she spied the best biscuits tin had been opened. This was sacrilege! It was an unwritten but understood rule that the Jacobs biscuits were saved until Christmas!

Turning away, she crouched down to where her dad had dropped the boxes she’d brought home and began stuffing her satchel with Feed the World with Bees envelopes. The sooner she was out of here the better because she needed to put distance between herself and Tom, who was busy making himself at home.

‘You missed a lovely Mass, so you did, Hannah. It was very uplifting.’ Nora shook the biscuit tin in Tom’s direction. ‘Will you have another, Tom? Father Seamus was asking after you, but Tom told us you made a grand breakfast in mine and your nan’s absence.’

Tom joined in as he leaned back after he’d helped himself to a Mikado, his rangy shoulders settling back into the cushions. ‘Best full Irish I’ve had in I can’t remember how long.’

Hannah pulled a face. ‘And I’m a big brown-nosing apple polisher, so I am.’ But she said, ‘Well, you’re certainly looking after him.’ It hadn’t escaped her notice that Mam hadn’t offered her a biscuit.

‘Where is it you’re off to?’ Nora asked, not having picked up on her daughter’s sarcasm as she topped up her tea and helped herself to a chocolate teacake.

The woman had no shame, Hannah thought, staring at her mam. Chocolate teacakes were her favourites. There’d be murder when her sisters heard about the best biscuits being snaffled before the twenty-fifth. And hear about it they would.

‘I need some fresh air, so I thought I’d also try and sell some of these.’ Hannah held up one of the envelopes. She didn’t mention the petition.

‘Will you be back this afternoon?’ Nora asked. ‘Because your father’s talking about going for a drive to choose the Christmas tree. You might like to go with him, and you’d be very welcome to go along for the ride there, Tom. Perhaps the pair of you might like to decorate the tree later?’ There was an interfering twinkle in Nora’s eye.

Janey Mack! Mam was after trying to match her with Tom, of all people, and she was about as subtle as a bulldozer.

Hannah was gratified to see Tom had begun to cough. Good – she hoped his Mikado had gone down the wrong way. Nora was up and out of her seat, fetching him a glass of water. He was obviously as uncomfortable about spending time with her after their earlier chat as she was with him.

Once he had his fit under control, he gave his throat one final clear and said, ‘Erm, it’s very kind of you to include me, Nora, but I’ve a meeting this afternoon.’

‘On a Sunday?’ Nora tsked.

‘No rest for the wicked.’ Hannah’s jaw was clenched.

‘Is it on-site at the abandoned farm, Tom?’ Kitty asked, having appeared seemingly from thin air. ‘I couldn’t help but overhear. You’ll be wanting to wrap up warmly if it is.’ She’d her arms full of folded washing and, upon seeing the Jacobs biscuit tin, set the load down on the table and promptly put the tin back where it had been hidden away for Christmas.

‘It is, and I’ll be sure to, thanks, Mrs Kelly.’

If he was surprised by her sudden concern for his well-being, he didn’t let on.

‘Have you seen the news with those hooligans carrying on in Cork? I don’t know what the world’s coming to,’ Kitty tsked, picking up her washing.

Nora joined in the tutting, and Hannah felt sick knowing exactly which hooligans she was referencing.

Tom had stood up and was freeing his wallet from his back jeans pocket. ‘That reminds me, Hannah. I owe you some money.’

Hannah was thankful for the diversion from all the tutting and tsking even if she would have liked to have told him where he could stick his money, but given that it was for the bees and not herself personally, she took the wad of notes he pulled out and made a show of counting. Then she handed over ten cards with a stiff thank you on behalf of the non-profit organisation she worked for, refusing to make eye contact with him. She was all fingers and thumbs as she fumbled with the straps on her satchel.

‘Why don’t you take Princess Leia with you?’ Nora suggested, looking over the rim of her teacup at her daughter. ‘James said she’s to have a half-hour daily walk.’

In response to the ‘W’ word, Princess Leia was up and out of her basket, all but performing somersaults at the prospect of stretching her little legs.

Nora smiled. ‘Ah, bless. You’ll find her lead and going-out-and-about sweater on the sideboard.’

It would take someone with a harder heart than hers to leave the chihuahua at home, Hannah thought as she wrestled her into the striped sweater.

‘You’re a natural at that, so you are,’ Nora commented. ‘You’ll be a grand babysitter for your sister. Won’t she, Kitty?’

‘Grand,’ Kitty agreed, heading toward the stairs.

There was a world of difference between dressing your sweet little baby niece or nephew and putting a sweater on a chihuahua, but Hannah didn’t bother voicing this. She could tell her mam had drifted off into a soon-to-be nana daydream.

She realised Tom was smiling at the exchange and busied herself, clipping the lead onto Princess Leia’s collar, saying in her sternest voice, ‘You’d better behave yourself, young lady. No ankle biting.’ Then, straightening and slinging her satchel over her shoulder, she said to no one in particular, ‘Right, we’re off.’

Without a backwards glance, Hannah opened the back door and left the sanctuary of the warm kitchen behind.