Chapter Three
“I want all of you to leave me alone.”
Andrew frowns from the other side of the island.
We’re in the kitchen. Mam, him, Molly and me, and their reactions are not what I expected.
I wanted to see immediate nods of understanding and a chorus of of course we will, Hannah.
It’s only right as an adult and a good person that you get this one small thing that you ask for. Instead, they just look confused.
“No one’s going to leave you alone,” Andrew says finally.
“Now you will. For one night. I don’t think that’s too much to ask,” I add when nobody says anything.
“You’d be surprised,” Mam grumbles. “I’ve been asking for one night alone in this house for thirty-six years.”
“Then we’ll go somewhere else,” I say, crossing my arms.
“Oh yeah?” Andrew asks. “Like where?”
“I don’t know. The barn?”
“The barn?” Andrew blinks at me. “You want to show how much you love your girlfriend by making her sleep in a barn?”
“I’d make it look nice,” I protest, already immediately doubting myself. “You got a better idea?”
“Yeah. Several. Anywhere but the barn.”
“What about Liam’s camper van?” Molly says, leaning forward. “It’s not that cold this year. You could sleep out under the stars. Light a campfire. It’d be cute. Or you could take our room, and Andrew and I can sleep in—”
“No,” Andrew says loudly. “When she has a more than seven-hour flight, she can pick her bed. Until then, it’s ours.”
“Why don’t we just get some nice covers for the air mattress,” Mam suggests. “It’s amazing what a new color can do.”
Everyone looks at me, but I have already stopped paying attention, too focused on Molly’s idea. On Liam’s camper van.
I don’t know much about it other than Liam got it years ago. But the idea is … not bad. It’s also the only thing I can think of that gives me something to work with. And Molly’s right. It would be cute. Daniela loves camping. We go all the time.
I could even collect her in it. Surprise her in it. We could spend all day wrapped up in blankets and have no one to bother us. Just us and the countryside and a box of snacks I’ll pack just for her.
Perfect.
*
My eldest brother lives annoyingly far away. Well, it’s not that far. Twenty minutes in the car. But I don’t have a car and no one will drive me, which means I have to walk for like two hours just to get there.
This. This is what I do for love.
Liam is nearly two decades older than me so we’ve always had a strange relationship. He’s more like an uncle than anything else. But he also has a lot more patience than Andrew and Christian, and because he’s the one who never moved away, I saw him all the time.
Unfortunately, he also runs a farm and has two kids and therefore is busy and practical and has little time to stop and marvel at my brilliant creative mind.
“Andrew’s no help,” I say, kicking at a stone as Liam works away. “He thinks it’s a big joke.”
“Andrew thinks everything is a joke,” Liam says evenly.
“But this isn’t. And I find it a little bit annoying that even though I am asking for help, no one is helping me when I help people all the time.”
I catch his smile as he wipes his sleeve under his nose. It’s cold today. A chilly morning but also annoyingly sunny, the clear skies showing no hint of snow or anything magical like that.
“I just want to know why when Andrew or Christian wants to do something, everyone rushes to help and thinks it’s a great idea, while when I want to, everyone says I’m being unrealistic. Do you know what that’s not? That’s not being an ally.”
Liam stoops. Plucks up the hammer. Whacks the final nail into a board.
“Are you even listening to me,” I demand.
“No. Why are you here again?”
“Your camper van.”
“Right.” He shuts the gate with a clang and winds the rope around it.
“Look, I don’t know what they told you, but there’s a reason it’s been sitting in the yard for years.
Mairead got it from her cousin for five hundred quid because they wanted to get rid of it.
We thought we’d use it to go camping. We never did. It’s not romantic. It’s not anything.”
“You’re harshing my vibe here, Liam.”
“I’m whatting your what?”
I fold my arms over my chest, determined to be stubborn. “Does it drive?”
“Do you drive?”
“I’m a great driver.”
He scoffs. “You drive like Mam.”
“I do not! Come on, Daniela’s coming tomorrow. You’re really not going to help me?”
“Why should I?”
“Um, I don’t know. Maybe because I mind your kids for free? Because I’m your baby sister? Because I asked nicely?”
“You rocked up here and demanded.”
“I texted first. And you like Daniela,” I remind him.
“I do,” he says, looking amused. “She’s quiet.”
“So why are you denying her this?”
“This being … ?”
“A grand romantic gesture worthy of the festive season. Liam. Please.”
He finally stops and turns to me. Whatever he sees on my face makes him sigh. “Okay,” he says. “You want to see it? Then we’ll see it.”
“Thank you,” I say, clasping my hands together, but my smug victoriousness only lasts the five minutes it takes to get to his yard, where he points to a hulking piece of metal by the compost bin.
“That’s it,” he says at my obvious confusion.
It’s not how I remembered it. Or maybe I don’t remember it at all.
Maybe I’ve never even seen it and just had a mental picture in my mind.
A false memory of a clean, decent vehicle and not whatever this is.
A blue, rusting Volkswagen that looks like it would collapse if you glanced at it the wrong way.
“This looks older than you,” I say.
“It probably is. It’s from the eighties.”
“It’s a piece of junk.”
“Yeah,” Liam nods. “Like I told you.”
“I thought you were being dramatic.”
“When have I ever been dramatic?” he asks as I circle the thing, going around to the open door only to come face to face with a sheep.
I jump back as the animal stares at me, its dark eyes unblinking as though daring me to enter its lair.
“Liam!” I complain, but he just looks pleasantly surprised.
“So that’s where she got to.”
“You lost a sheep?”
“This one just likes to roam.”
“You’re a bad farmer,” I mutter, peering around her. “And she has defecated all over the van. How did she even get in there?”
“I find it less maddening to ask such questions,” he says as he lifts her out.
I hold my breath at the smell as I lean in further, inspecting the living area, but my misery is already starting to fade. I’m an artist, after all. Everything can be fixed. It just needs a bit of elbow grease. And maybe three to four air fresheners.
“We’re going to need to hose it down first,” I say, stepping back out.
“We?” Liam asks.
“You’re the one who let it get so—”
“Hannah!”
I spin around as my niece, Elsie, comes running across the yard in a bright pink coat.
At nine, she’s Liam’s youngest. Her brother Padraig is in that too-cool-for-everything teenage stage, but Elsie’s still obsessed with me because not only am I her only aunt, but I make her the best Halloween costumes each year and know how to do French plaits.
Honestly, parenting is not as hard as everyone makes it out to be.
“Did you finish for the Christmas break already?” I ask as she reaches my side.
“She had the dentist this morning,” Liam explains, giving her a stern look. “And we agreed she wouldn’t have to go back to class if she did her homework.”
“I did it an hour ago,” she protests. “I barely have any anyway. It’s Christmas.”
“It is Christmas, isn’t it,” I say. “The season of giving. Of being nice. Of lending a helping—”
“Okay, I don’t have time for either of you right now,” Liam interrupts. “El, your mam will be home in a few hours.”
“But I’m bored.”
“I can hang out with her,” I say, pulling her into my side. “I don’t mind.”
Liam gives me a look, clearly suspicious. He should be.
For a price, I mouth with a smile. Elsie is adorable. But she’s also a lot. She takes after me in that respect. And I know if I don’t distract her, she’s just going to follow her dad around all day, ensuring he gets nothing done.
“Can you make me a mermaid dress?” Elsie asks.
“Sure can,” I tell her.
Liam huffs. “Fine,” he says to her. “You can hang out with Hannah, who will bow to your every wish and command …” His eyes go to me. “And I’ll get started out here.”
“Sounds like a plan,” I grin.
And that’s called girlhood.
*
In the end, I think Liam gets the less tiring job.
I love Elsie to bits, but nine-year-olds are not for the faint of heart.
At least I don’t have to make her a dress, though.
Or not in one afternoon. She soon loses interest in standing still, and we spend the rest of the day playing board games and styling her hair until her mam and brother come home.
With their help, we make dinner and eat it in front of the television.
Mairead and Padraig disappear to practice lines for his Christmas play, but Elsie insists on watching a movie.
She ends up falling asleep halfway through Meet Me in St. Louis, which would be fine if she hadn’t fallen asleep on me, meaning I can’t move or else I’ll be a monster.
So I just stay there as the movie finishes and the credits roll and a documentary about rivers starts that’s actually kind of interesting.
It’s late by the time Liam finally comes to find us, his eyebrows rising as soon as he enters the room.
“Who are you and what have you done to my daughter?”
“It’s called a sugar crash,” I tell him, putting a finger to my lips. I’m not really worried. If she didn’t wake up with the ads, she won’t wake up now. The girl is out like only kids can be.
Liam takes a seat in the armchair next to us, his eyes on his sleeping daughter. “You have a good day?”
“I’m working on her film knowledge. We’re up to 1940s now.”
“You always did like the classic stuff.” He slumps a little, resting his head back against the cushion. “Especially the Christmas ones.”
“They’re the most romantic,” I say, twirling a lock of Elsie’s hair around my finger.
“I suppose so.”
My eyes drift across the mantelpiece, taking in the framed photos of me and my relatives smiling back.
“Can I ask you something?” I say, focusing on one of Liam on his wedding day. “How did you know Mairead was the one?”
He doesn’t roll his eyes at the question. That’s what I’ve always liked about Liam. He never teased me like the others. Never made fun. He took everything I said seriously. Even when I was a kid.
Now, he looks thoughtful, and it takes him a second to answer. “I don’t know,” he says finally. “I guess when she came into my life, it never occurred to me that she wouldn’t be a part of it. It just felt right. Easy.”
I frown at that. “Nothing’s easy,” I say, thinking of all the logistical problems Daniela and I are facing. “Especially relationships.”
“I’m not saying we didn’t fight. We had a lot of decisions to make and sometimes we disagreed. But we talked them out. We made them together. The kids. The house.” He shrugs. “Even the proposal.”
I give him a look. “We’re not even going to get into that,” I warn. The man didn’t even propose. They had a conversation about marriage and agreed on a budget and timeline. Tragic. “Didn’t you ever do something romantic for her?” I ask. “Something big and stupid?”
“You mean besides agree to buy that camper van?”
“You’re so—”
“Boring?” he asks with a grin.
“No,” I sigh. “You’re like Dad. Reasonable.”
“I don’t know, Dad can be pretty romantic. He can,” he adds at my scoff. “Just because you don’t see it doesn’t mean it’s not there. You know he’s a big softie on the inside.”
I do know that. But I can’t exactly imagine him sprinkling rose petals around the house. He’d just spend the whole time thinking how he was going to have to clean them up.
“Besides,” Liam says. “Mairead would have hated anything like that. You know she’s shy. We’re romantic in our own ways.”
“In what ways?”
He shakes his head.
“Tell me.” I pout. “You can’t say that and not tell me.”
“We just try and make each other happy.” But he knows that’s not good enough for me.
“There was one moment that sticks out,” he says.
“From her. It was the first time we decided to spend Christmas morning together and not with our families. We didn’t think it would be a big thing, but it’s a weird kind of step you take as a couple.
And she knew what it was like in our house.
I told her about how there would be no presents under the tree until the morning.
How we’d wake up and the place would be magically full.
The footsteps by the fireplace. A bite out of a carrot.
I told her that I wanted to do that with our kids one day.
” His eyes go to Elsie, who’s still fast asleep.
“Anyway, on Christmas morning, I wake up and the bed is empty, which is unusual because she normally doesn’t get up until a few hours after me.
I hear noises downstairs, so I sneak down and it turns out she’s already lit a fire and got the house warmed up.
And not only that, but the reason she’d gotten up early was to put my present under the tree. ”
“Okay, that’s pretty cute,” I admit.
“It was. And on top of that, she’s still in her pajamas and wearing my work boots. They’ve got to be two sizes too big for her at least, and I was confused before I realized she’d dipped them in the fireplace ashes from the night before.”
“Stop it.”
“Yeah.”
“She was making Santa’s footsteps?”
“She was. I’d never seen such a look of concentration on her face. She wanted me to have a good Christmas.”
“What did you say?”
“Nothing. I went back to bed. Pretended to be asleep so she could surprise me. She was so happy. And she wanted more than anything for me to be happy. I never forgot it. And the next year, we had Padraig and I got to help her do it myself.” He smiles.
“You don’t have to give Daniela the moon, Hannah.
Not if she’s the one. But I think it’s nice that you want to try.
And I think she’ll appreciate it no matter what you do.
” He nods toward the window. “Your chariot is clean, by the way. Needs your touch, but it will work. We can do the rest in the morning.”
“Thank you,” I say. “Really.”
“Thank you,” he says, looking at his daughter. “You okay here?”
I nod.
“I’ll leave the light on in the loo in case you need it. Make sure the fire’s out.”
“I will,” I whisper, sitting up gently as he gets to his feet, but Elsie doesn’t stir as Liam lifts her up into his arms and carries her out.
I wait until his footsteps fade before snuggling back down and pulling the blanket over me.
I fall asleep, gazing at the tree in the corner and thinking of all the Christmases to come.