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

Chapter 25

25

Hannah cracked an eye open as her alarm beeped. It felt ridiculously early. How could it be morning already?

Her hand snaked out for her phone, and as she slid the alarm off, she saw it was 7 a.m. Reality dawned because it was Monday morning, and she had things to do – important things, like typing her letter to the Department of Agriculture – but the drilling pain behind her eyeball suggested she’d overdone it with the celebrating last night.

Her lips felt dry and cracked as she grinned despite her tender head at the memory of Isla in top form toasting her newfound TikTok celebrity. At first, Nan had been put-out at having the thunder stolen from her, but then she’d seen the bigger picture and what it meant for the abandoned farm and famine cottage. She’d joined Isla in a round of selfies for their online fans, dragging her and Freya into the fray.

Had Tom seen the TikTok? He didn’t strike her as the sort to hang out on that social medium, but she’d no way of knowing until he arrived back in Emerald Bay tomorrow. If he arrived back. Hannah couldn’t see how the land sale could, in good conscience, be signed off now, not knowing so many people were against the blatant disregard for their little Irish village’s history. Or, at least, whoever was in charge of that side of things at the department would be made aware of this once she’d sent her email.

The thought that Tom may no longer need to return left her with mixed feelings, and annoyance prickled over her traitorous thoughts. That was when it hit her like a rogue wave at the beach. She’d texted Dylan late into the evening. The fear hit as she snatched up her phone.

‘Please, please, pretty please, with sugar on top, don’t let me have signed off to him with kisses.’ She’d felt the love all night, so there was a strong possibility given her exuberant mood as she’d filled him in on the events of Sunday that she’d done just that.

Sitting up, Hannah opened her phone, chewing on her bottom lip, and saw no reply to her text. That wasn’t a good sign.

She opened the message she’d sent, wincing as she read over the scrambled, gushing words, then sent a silent thank you to Him upstairs. There were no heart emojis and no kisses lurking at the bottom. Garbling aside, it was a perfectly acceptable text.

At least the fear had taken her mind off her poor head, she thought, galvanising herself. A shower, coffee – because tea wouldn’t hit the spot today – and toast would see her fit to rejoin the human race.

Indeed, once she’d been pummelled by hot water and had helped herself to Imogen’s forgotten smellies, Hannah felt much improved. It was a bonus to find the kitchen was empty because she’d not have to talk to anyone until after her coffee. She guessed that because of the lateness of the night, Mam, Dad and Nan had opted for a lie-in.

‘Good morning,’ Hannah greeted Princess Leia, who showed her excitement at seeing her by dancing around her in circles. It was nice to be greeted at this hour with so much enthusiasm with the bonus of not having to make conversation. She totally understood why some people loved their pets more than they loved people.

She tipped the portion size of kibble James had demonstrated into the chihuahua’s bowl then set about making her own breakfast. By the time she put her coffee and toast down on the table, Princess Leia was whining at the back door.

‘For one so tiny, you’ve got a good appetite,’ Hannah said, smiling as she opened the back door to let the little dog do her business and sniff around the still-dark beer garden, leaving it open a crack so she could come back in. At least yesterday’s downpour had eased. Then, mindful of the draft, she sat in Nan’s seat to avoid it.

The caffeine was beginning to take effect when her phone pinged. It was Dylan, and adrenaline surged at the anticipation of praise for yesterday’s efforts.

It’s not enough.

The words jumped out at her, and she barely read the rest of his straight-to-the-point text, clicking on the video he’d attached.

It was like watching a news clip about something happening in a far-off place. The anger of the crowd surging down the street almost throbbed out at her, and there was Dylan, his face twisted into a nearly unrecognisable fury as he lobbed something at a shop window and the sound of splintering glass and screams reverberated back at her.

Hannah felt sick as she watched it a second time. She wasn’t naive, having attended protests that had taken an out-of-hand turn, but she’d never felt that blind rage visible on Dylan’s face.

Another message pinged through, and Hannah’s stomach began churning as she scrolled through it, her hand sweaty and her heart pounding. Dylan wanted to take action in Emerald Bay. He wanted them to do something big that would make those in charge sit up and take notice.

Her hand shook as she put her phone down, frightened at the thought of what he might want her to do, and she closed her eyes as a questioning voice ran through her head. This was what you wanted, wasn’t it? For Dylan to see you the way you see him. A kindred spirit, someone prepared to stand up for what you believe in.

Not like this, though , she silently replied.

The back door opening made her jump.

‘And how are we feeling this morning?’ Liam, cheeks ruddy with the cold, was overly chipper for someone who’d not headed to bed until midnight. He stomped his feet on the mat, and Hannah saw he had a small dog tucked under one arm and a newspaper under the other. ‘Look who I found? And we might be warming to each other now I’ve lost the Santa suit, but you can tell your mam and nan from me I’m not cleaning up that poo out there even if it is minuscule.’ He set Princess Leia down; she trotted off and began wrestling with her chew toy.

‘Grand, Dad,’ Hannah croaked, her appetite for her toast having deserted her.

‘Are you not eating that?’ Liam’s eyes moved to her plate.

She shook her head. ‘I was greedy,’ she fibbed.

‘Don’t mind if I do then.’ He helped himself and then slapped the newspaper down on the table. ‘You and your nan are cover girls, so you are.’

‘Oh, that’s just fecking great, that is.’ Hannah’s eyes were riveted to the front page of the Galway Gazette glaring up at her because there, in colour no less, were two photographs around which paragraphs of text were arranged. The top photo was placed beneath the bold headline ‘Protesting’s a Family Business’. She bit the inside of her cheek. This didn’t bode well for the article because yesterday wasn’t about her and Nan personally. And while Freya was as good as family, she wasn’t a Kelly, so it wasn’t even factual. She should have known Jeremy would find a slant to paint them in a bad light. Had Tom got in his ear? Or did he have a personal vendetta against her? The latter was a real possibility, given no love was lost between her and the reporter.

Her gaze lowered to the photo beneath the headline. Nan looked like what she was – a feisty and opinionated woman with something important to say who was also wearing a reindeer Christmas hat. ‘I’d listen to you,’ Hannah said softly.

It was the photo of herself and Freya below, however, that made her toes curl to the point of cramping. Well, not Freya. She looked like she always did, with her trademark waterfall of blue hair, her mouth set in a serious line, and her eyeballs pointing at the camera in a ‘Don’t mess with me’ manner.

‘I’d listen to what you had to say, too.’

Hannah held the newspaper up for close inspection. ‘But as for you, I’d be booking an appointment at the dentist ASAP.’ She looked at her dad, who’d sat opposite her, and wailed, ‘I look like a woman who’s about to lose her teeth and who’s just been told she’s allowed one more piece of cake before surgery. Could I have smiled any harder?’

Her teeth, on full wattage display, were a gorgeous shade of purple thanks to Carmel’s mulled wine. Instead of being inundated with support for keeping Emerald Bay intact, she’d probably find herself the recipient of dental donations, she thought, slapping the paper back down on the table. Jeremy Jones would have been delighted with that freeze-framed moment, and she rubbed her temples, silently running through every expletive she could think of where he was concerned.

‘And I don’t know why you’re grinning away like a Cheshire cat, Dad. It doesn’t put you and mam in a good light. People will think you were too miserable to pay for your poor daughter’s dental care.’

Hannah steeled herself to read the accompanying article and dipped her head, her lips compressing until they’d almost disappeared as she scanned through it, even though it was pretty much what she’d expected.

Jeremy had painted the three of them as professional moaners with too much time on their hands. There was only a brief mention as to why they’d taken up residence in the old cottage for the day, and that was written in such a way as to make them come across like country bumpkins who should be strumming banjos. What with her teeth added to the mix, it didn’t make for good press.

Hannah pushed the paper away angrily. It would have been satisfying to carry it through to the pub and shove it on the fire, but what would be the point? Burning one copy wouldn’t change anything. At this very moment, it would be a source of sniggering over the Shredded Wheat at many tables across Galway and the wider district.

The damage was already done.

Hannah would have liked Dylan’s input on the letter she’d put together pleading the case for the land sale to be stopped before she sent it, but he’d made his feelings clear; he thought words were a waste of time. She’d used Nan as a second pair of eyes instead, although she’d almost regretted having done so, reluctant to follow her suggestion to delete the paragraph she’d included about the cottage being more than a historical beacon. It was a place for the youth of Emerald Bay to still be kids, to put their phones away and to let their imaginations regarding the ghostly ruin roam free. Given all the fuss around health and safety, Nan argued that mentioning this was a bad idea. In the end, she’d conceded Kitty was right. It would be shooting herself in the foot, so to speak.

Heaving a sigh of relief, Hannah sat back in her chair, flexing her fingers as she stretched. The email, petition and TikTok video link were sent. All she could do was hope she’d turned the tables on Tom’s client and the countdown until Christmas would work in her favour now, with the powers that be at the Department of Agriculture pulling the pin on the land deal, eager for it to go away. The sooner, the better because if the problem disappeared, she’d not have to prove herself to Dylan by participating in something she had no control over.

It would be satisfying to waggle a copy of everything she’d sent under Tom’s nose tomorrow evening, assuming he came back because there was always the hope that it would be sufficient to spook his client into backing away.

Hannah decided fresh air was the order of the day now that her work was done – for the time being at any rate. Who knew, maybe she’d come across the American woman and solve that little mystery? And Princess Leia would enjoy a walk, too. So, a short while later, they set off in the soft mist down the back lanes. Unlike Nan, who was chuffed at being a later-in-life cover girl, she wasn’t game to show her face on Main Street, not with the Gazette photograph so fresh in everyone’s mind. Hannah had even caught Nan signing Enda Dunne’s copy of the Gazette for posterity, giggling like she was a pin-up girl from the fifties.

Needless to say, she’d been quick to veto her dad’s suggestion they get the article framed to hang on the Shamrock wall along with all the village’s other claims to fame.