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

Chapter 19

19

The two women risked life and limb striding over the rutted land, or at least their ankles, as they made their way toward the milling crowd surrounding what was left of the higgledy-piggledy farm cottage.

‘What’s that noise?’ Freya asked as a reedy wailing reached their ears.

‘It sounds like an animal in pain,’ Hannah replied, but she could make out words as they drew nearer. It was someone singing!

‘I know that song,’ Freya exclaimed, and Hannah realised she did, too. She’d sung it herself more than once – ‘We Shall Not Be Moved’.

‘It’s Nan.’ Hannah’s voice came out in a whisper. Despite it stinging that Kitty had taken matters into her own hands, she was awestruck, amazed that her nan even knew the protest hymn. Which she was butchering, though that was neither here nor there. Shannon was the only Kelly family member blessed with the gift of song.

The surprises kept coming because Father Christmas, looking less than jolly, peeled away from the huddle and approached them with Nora Kelly in tow.

‘Hannah.’ Nora acknowledged her daughter. ‘How’re you, Freya? Can you believe this, the pair of you?’

‘I can’t believe how many people are here.’ Freya’s gaze swung back and forth like a lighthouse beam over the field.

‘We stand by Nan, Mam,’ Hannah said. Even if Nan hadn’t seen fit to ask her to do so. Then she got to the more pressing point. ‘Dad, you’re a long way from the North Pole. What are you playing at?’

It might be tradition for Liam Kelly to don the red suit on Christmas Eve to dole out sweets to the children of Emerald Bay during the carolling service, but he was a tad early because Hannah could still count down to Christmas on two hands. Should she be worried he was taking his role too seriously? Princess Leia began growling. She clearly wasn’t a fan of Father Christmas.

‘Would you tell Cujo there to stand down?’ Liam huffed, taking a wary step back from his daughter and acknowledging Freya with a nod.

Somewhere in the surrounding hubbub a child cried out, ‘Mammy, Father Christmas is here!’

‘Why are you all dressed up like so, Liam?’ Freya asked.

‘It’s Nora’s fault I’m parading about a field missing my sleigh and reindeer. And I’ve not a sweet or balloon on me if that little one decides to head over and tell me how good she’s been. Yer man over there’s already after snapping a photo without my permission, too.’

Hannah didn’t look to where he was gesturing vaguely. She didn’t need to. Jeremy Jones was on the prowl. She hoped her dad didn’t inadvertently steal the front page and make Nan’s protest look ridiculous.

Liam carried on explaining himself. ‘I thought I’d try the suit on before I chose the Christmas tree because with all the kale and whatnot, I’m after dropping a few pounds, and it might need taking in. I’d no sooner attached my beard when Nora burst in, telling me my mam was after staging a sit-in at the abandoned farm. I’d no time to change.’

‘It was Tom who rang me.’ Nora filled in the gaps, reaching out to pet Princess Leia. ‘He was supposed to be meeting his client here only it was cancelled due to something having come up at the developer’s end. He decided to swing by to scope things out anyway and found your nan sitting cross-legged – at her age! – in the cottage entrance like some sort of guru.’

‘That was good of him,’ Hannah said through gritted teeth. It was his fault Nan was here in the freezing cold in the first place. His and whoever his partner in crime was. Nan’s earlier inquisitiveness about where he was meeting his client as he’d chatted to Mam in the kitchen made sense now. She stood on tiptoes, trying and failing to glimpse Kitty over the huddled pack.

‘Well, thank goodness he did, and he was genuinely concerned, Hannah, so that’s enough of the snarky remarks.’ Nora scanned the faces surrounding the cottage, her brow creased. ‘I don’t know where he’s got to, but he did say he promised to relay to his client how she felt about the Greenhouse project rather than her sitting out in the cold. Your nan told him she was fine where she was, thanks very much.’

A dart of pride overrode Hannah’s bewilderment at her nan’s secretive behaviour. It was hard to understand when she’d felt so close to her last night, but a bigger part of her was cheering: good for her!

‘What’s she playing at? I want to know. Sure, she’s like a rebellious reindeer sitting over there with that “Oh Deer it’s Christmas” beanie she bought off that online shop she’s forever buying useless pieces of tat off. We tried talking some sense into her, but she kept launching into the song like a scratched record. And one in danger of catching pneumonia at that.’ Liam tugged his faux beard. ‘Would you keep that vicious, fangy-toothed thing away from me?’

Princess Leia might not be a fan of the opposite sex, but she liked Father Christmas even less.

‘Nan,’ Hannah said, keeping a firm hold of Princess Leia, ‘is standing up for what she believes in.’

It was up to Kitty to share what this place meant to her.

‘I think you’ll find she’s sitting down, cross-legged if you recall, Hannah, on one of my good cushions,’ Nora fired back. ‘Sergeant Badger’s after having a quiet word, but she’s not breaking any laws, so there’s nothing he can do apart from crowd control.’

OK, that was a tad dramatic, given that the number of curious Emerald Bay spectators whose Sunday afternoons had been livened up once word had somehow spread regarding Kitty Kelly’s protest was hardly on a scale with the pilgrims flocking to the Holy Mountain.

Speak of the devil, there he was, aviator sunglasses in place in case he should get snapped for the papers, marching about the place like a geriatric Tom Cruise.

‘Go and talk to her, Hannah. She might listen to you,’ Nora urged.

Hannah was only too eager to do so, wanting to quiz Nan about why she’d left her out. ‘I will. Catch you later, Mam, Dad. Come on, Freya.’

They moved away from Nora and Liam and had only taken a few strides toward the cottage when their path was blocked. Hannah coughed as she inhaled acrid smoky fumes and, flapping her hand in distaste, saw the familiar, whippet-like form of Jeremy Jones, cigarette dangling out the corner of his mouth, taking up space in front of her.

‘So you’re a chip off the old block,’ he wheezed.

‘Feck off, Jeremy.’

Freya grasped her hand, attempting to tug her away. ‘Come on, Hannah.’

‘Is this your mascot?’ the reporter sneered at Princess Leia, who responded with a yip that meant business.

‘I’d get out of my way if I were you,’ Hannah warned. She desperately wanted to know who’d tipped him off. Still, she wouldn’t give the weaselly-eyed excuse for a reporter the satisfaction.

‘I’ve a few questions for you. I’d like to get your nan’s side of the story, but yer Kate Bush wannabe over there’s stuck on repeat play, so you’re the next best thing.’

‘No comment.’

‘Hannah, come on,’ Freya urged for the second time.

‘That’s not like you. You’re usually only too keen to get your side of the story across.’

‘And I’ve learned the hard way if there’s something in it for you, then the “truth” is flexible. So no, I’ll not be talking to you.’

‘But what’s the point in a protest when nobody knows what’s being protested?’

Hannah hesitated, and Freya leaned close to her ear, whispering, ‘He’s got a point.’

He did, and as much as it rankled, Hannah knew she’d have to give him something. ‘I’ll keep it brief then.’

Jeremy Jones clicked a button on the small tape-recording device he held toward Hannah.

‘Kitty Kelly is against selling this land to an out-of-town developer because it belongs to the people of Emerald Bay. She’s not the only one either. I’ve a signed petition in here’ – she tapped her satchel – ‘that says most of Emerald Bay’s residents feel the proposed Greenhouse garden centre and Christmas tree farm planned for this site is sacrilege.’ An exaggeration given she’d not yet had the chance to seek out the majority of the villagers for an opinion one way or another. Jeremy didn’t need to know that, though. ‘The famine cottage and this land is part of our village’s history. We don’t want that history destroyed in the name of so-called progress, and Freya and I are here to relieve Kitty from her post.’

If Freya was surprised to hear this, she didn’t let on, adding to what Hannah had said. ‘It’s terrible an elderly woman having to put her life at risk by sitting out in freezing conditions like this to be heard.’

Hannah made to move away then, but Jeremy reached out to stop her. ‘How do you know who’s behind the development? I was told the buyer or buyers wish to remain anonymous.’

The sight of the oily reporter lunging toward her was too much for Princess Leia, who, like a crocodile striking, sank her teeth down on his closest finger as though she’d been offered a tasty bone to gnaw on.

Things seemed to go in slow motion then. The cigarette dropped from Jeremy’s mouth to lie smouldering on the damp earth as he raised his bleeding finger and stared at it in disbelief.

Hannah choked back a laugh, seeing the reporter’s face blanch white at the tiny trickle of blood running down the inside of his index finger.

‘I’m bleeding,’ he rasped.

‘Sure, it’s only a little nip. A plaster will sort that, but I’d be getting a rabies shot if I were you. What do you think, Freya?’

‘Oh, definitely. You can’t be too careful with wild dogs, like.’

‘No, hold that thought. I don’t think you need to be bothering the doctor on a Sunday because, sure, you’re already rabid. And you’re welcome to put that in your paper.’

With that, Hannah and Freya, grinning from ear to ear, linked arms and left the reporter and his bleeding finger to it.