Chapter 21
Grace was dreaming she’d purchased a waterbed as a cheaper compromise to a canal boat, but then her new bed began throwing her about like they’d hit rough seas. Through the fog of sleep, she registered someone was bouncing on her bed and telling her to wake up. It had taken her forever to drift off after trooping back upstairs at some ungodly hour. All her warm, fuzzy and frustrated thoughts about Chris had been banished thanks to her dad’s unceremonious exit from the table last night. It had made her blood boil, because she’d held out the olive branch only to have it slapped away. He was being ridiculous. Sometime after 2 a.m., she’d decided a word with Mam and Nan about his unreasonable behaviour was in order. One way or another, she’d get to the bottom of what was at the root of his ill will toward the Dorrances. Because it needed to be sorted once and for all.
‘Gracie! Wake up. I brought you up a cup of tea.’
That was Hannah’s voice. Grace kept her eyes squeezed shut, because maybe she was still dreaming. She snuggled further under the bedding, but as another bounce jolted her, her eyes flew open. Within a split second, she registered Hannah was using her waterbed as a trampoline, and if she wasn’t careful, she’d pop it and flood the room! Then, as her bedroom came into focus, she realised she didn’t actually have a waterbed. She was back in her single bed above the Shamrock.
Grace groaned then muttered, ‘I love you, Hannah, and it’s great to see you, but bugger off, would you? Or I’ll tell Mam you’re after trying to break the bed.’
‘Nope, I’m not going anywhere until you get yourself up. We’ve things to do and people to see. C’mon – sit up and drink your tea,’ Hannah ordered.
What was she on about, things to do and all that?Grace thought groggily and more to the point… ‘What time is it?’ Her gritty eyes told her it should still be dark out, and she’d hours of blissful sleep left before she’d have to get up.
‘Nearly nine and Nan’s after cracking eggs into a mixing bowl and heating the frying pan, which means I made it in time for breakfast, but you won’t if you don’t get your lazy arse up.’ Hannah grabbed Grace’s foot, conveniently sticking out from under the covers, and began tickling it.
Grace yelped and hauled herself upright. ‘You’re very annoying, Hannah. Has anyone ever told you that?’
Hannah smiled. ‘What do you think?’
Grace shook her head and rubbed her eyes before reaching for the tea her sister had carted up for her. A sip of the hot brew rallied her, and she soaked in the sight of Hannah, her eyes widening. ‘Your hair!’
‘I thought it was time for a change. I got it cut and coloured yesterday. What do you think?’
The snaking coiled locs her sister had favoured this last while had been lopped off, and she was sporting a shorter do that made her look like an amber-eyed pixie. The fire-engine red she’d dyed it around the short back and sides was in keeping with her alternative tendencies. It suited her down to the ground, and Grace gave her verdict. ‘I love it.’
She’d no comment regarding her choice of khaki men’s shorts held up by a belt and Bob Marley T-shirt, which she knew would have been sourced from a thrift store. Oh, how the personal stylist in her itched to get her hands on Hannah, and just for a moment, her mind wandered into a daydream. There was Hannah decked out in an on-trend summer outfit handpicked by none other than herself. Her Insta post showing her sister before and after her stylist, Grace Kelly, had worked her magic had just gone viral. Still and all, she wiped the images away, knowing part of being a stylist was to help people find their own unique style. One that embraced their identity. Hannah’s clothes already spoke volumes about who she was.
Her sister’s back straightened, and she smiled her pleasure at the compliment, blissfully unaware of Grace’s fashion inventory as she ruffled the feathery strands of her new do with her fingers. ‘Thanks. Dad’s after making a smart-arse remark, which is rich coming from him given his hairstyle history.’
She must have seen something in Grace’s face at the mention of their dad, as the next thing she came out with was, ‘You told him about you and Chris, then?’
Grace wasn’t surprised one of her other three sisters had brought Hannah up to speed with her living arrangements and the festival. Still, she bristled despite her sister’s sympathetic tone. ‘Why does everyone make it sound like we’re an item? We’re house-sharing, and that’s all. It’s a platonic arrangement. He’s got a girlfriend. A frigging six-foot Finn with fabulous hair who’s a model no less.’
Hannah smirked. ‘Me thinks she doth protest too much.’
‘Ah, go away, Hannah.’ Irritation lit Grace’s already short fuse, and she folded her arms across her chest, slumping back against her pillows.
The door squeaking open was a timely diversion. It was Napoleon. He gave a muffled mewl, attempting to drag something white and twice his size into the room.
There was never a more determined little fellow, Grace thought, but then he was a Kelly.
His catch was soon deposited on the floor by her bed. At least it wasn’t something that had once been living, she thought as he looked up at her with pride written all over his squished Persian face.
‘What an earth are you after bringing in, Napoleon?’ Grace asked, and Napoleon gave several miaows.
‘Wouldn’t it be great to be your Dr Doolittle man and understand what he’s telling us?’ Hannah said, and Grace agreed it would indeed.
‘Pick it up, would you? So we can see what it is.’
‘I’m not touching whatever that is.’ Grace was indignant.
Hannah nudged the item with the toe of her boot, and they both gasped as it dawned on them what they were looking at.
‘They’re someone’s knickers!’ Grace breathed, remembering what her mam had told her about Napoleon’s new hobby.
‘That or a parachute,’ Hannah added.
Then they looked at one another, lips quivering with threatened laughter at the unspoken question.
‘But whose?’ Hannah said finally. ‘No female under the Shamrock’s roof has an arse that would fill those. The little bugger’s been hunting further afield.’
‘Could they be Isla Mullins’s, maybe?’ Grace queried then giggled.
‘Carmel Brady’s?’ Hannah snorted.
And by the time Grace choked out, ‘Nessie Doyle’s,’ referring to the village’s hairdresser, they were in bits.
Napoleon flicked them a disgusted look and stalked off, dragging his gift behind him. If she could talk to the animals, Grace reckoned he would have told her he was off to find more gracious recipients for his present.
‘My tummy hurts,’ Grace declared, eventually wiping her eyes as she grappled to get control of herself.
‘Mine, too. G’won and get that tea down you.’
Grace downed it, giving the occasional giddy giggle between sips, but when she’d finished, she’d got the last of them out of her system. ‘Mam and Dad didn’t mention you were coming home,’ she said to Hannah, thinking it was odd they’d not said anything.
‘They didn’t know, that’s why. I thought I’d surprise everyone. Besides, I could hardly stay away when I heard what it was had brought you home, like.’
‘The festival?’
‘What else? I decided you need my expertise. So voilà!’ Hannah flung her arms wide. ‘Here I am at your service.’
‘Hannah, I don’t mean to be rude, but your specialities lie more with protesting about things like trees being cut down and promoting the bees, not organising a music festival.’ Her sister worked for non-profit causes, and the latest was Feed the World with Bees.
‘No bees, no food, Gracie. You should know that by now.’
Grace held her hand up. ‘I do!’ She was far too groggy to listen to Hannah’s grandstanding, and she was grateful her sister didn’t settle in to deliver a half-hour lecture on what would happen if the bee population continued to dwindle. Instead, she addressed her younger sister as though she were applying for a job.
‘The skills I can bring are simple but effective and involve legwork. If you organise fliers, then me and my esteemed colleagues will pass them out when we hit the streets to spread the word about the bees. Social media’s all well and good, Grace, and I know it’s your speciality, but there’s a lot to be said for being in at ground level, too.’ That passionate gleam Hannah always got when she threw herself behind something worthwhile had lit her eyes, and her enthusiasm saw Grace well up.
‘Gracie?’
‘Thanks, Han. Your help getting the word out would be great.’
Grace reached for her phone and saw she’d a message from Ava. Her heart amped up on seeing there was a link to the new website she’d promised to set up for Emerald Grooves. Ava was a fast worker, Grace thought, scanning it to check all the information she’d passed on to her sister had been included in it.
‘Check this out.’ Grace angled her phone so Hannah could see it, too. ‘Look what Ava’s after doing.’
Hannah was duly impressed.
‘She’s done an amazing job,’ Grace breathed, clicking on the buy-now link and being taken to a purchase page.
‘How’s Clara? What did she say when you told her about the festival?’
‘I haven’t told her yet. I planned on meeting her for lunch and filling her in then.’
‘She’ll be blown away by what you and Chris are doing.’
Hannah probably didn’t know Chris was in town, Grace realised. She decided it would be better she heard about the pebble tossing and her subsequent sneaking out to meet him first-hand from her, and once she’d finishing bringing her sister up to speed, she added, ‘And don’t you dare start with the innuendoes. He’s here to help get things underway with the festival, and that’s as far as it goes.’
Hannah laid her hand on her chest and gave her a ‘Who, me?’ look. ‘I wouldn’t dream of making assumptions.’
Grace’s narrowed eyes said she didn’t believe a word of it, but as she told Hannah that Enda had volunteered his farm for the festival, she clapped her hands together.
‘And Chris’s dad’s sponsoring Emerald Grooves is amazing, but you can imagine how that went down with Dad when I told him?’
‘Like a fart in a jam jar.’
‘What does that even mean?’ Grace wrinkled her nose.
‘I’m not sure, but we’ve a Welsh lad working with us, and he said it the other day. I just like it, is all.’
‘You’re mad, you are, but listen.’ Grace listed off the bands Chris had brought on board and was pleased to see Hannah look suitably impressed.
‘Wow. It’s really happening, then.’
‘It really is.’ Grace made a note to send the names of the bands through to Ava after breakfast. There was no reason the site couldn’t go live once she’d added those.
Hannah suddenly slapped her hand on her knee. ‘And I’m betting there’s still plenty more to be done, and since I’m here to help too, what are we doing today, team leader?’
Grace stared at her. She really did mean business. ‘Chris was supposed to text me,’ she said, reaching for her phone again. ‘We’re planning on heading over to Enda’s farm to scout out the best location for the stage. I’ll call Ryan before we go and see if he can meet us there. He’s offered to build it.’
‘That’s brilliant.’
Grace nodded, because it was. She could pinch herself over how everything was falling into place.
Checking her messages, she saw one had bounced in from Chris half an hour ago, and she smiled in anticipation.
‘He’s picking me up at twelve outside the Bus Stop,’ she said, referencing the corner shop and trying not to let Hannah see how the thought of spending more time alone with him had made her pulse behave erratically. ‘I’ll have to see about making it a morning tea catch-up with Clara.’ She tapped out a message to her friend, letting her know she was home for the weekend and asking her if she was free to meet up.
‘Why’s he not picking us up here?’
Grace registered Hannah’s use of ‘us’ and took stock of her sister’s expectant face. Her pulse resumed its normal rhythm. She couldn’t tell her sister she’d prefer to go alone because she was looking forward to being one-on-one with Chris, at least until Ryan showed up. Not when she was so keen to help.
‘Dumb question, Hannah.’
‘Oh right. Dad.’
‘Dad,’ Grace confirmed.
‘Hannah, Grace! Breakfast.’ Their nan’s voice drifted up the stairs, as did the smell of frying bacon.The hallmarks of a breakfast feast.
Hannah reached out and touched her sister’s arm gently. ‘Don’t be worrying about Dad, Gracie. He’ll come round. Sure, you’ve always been able to wrap him around your little finger. Things won’t be any different this time round.’
‘What are you on about? I have not.’
‘You have too.’ Hannah got up then and said, ‘But Nan’s another story, and there’ll be murder if you don’t get down those stairs for breakfast.’
Hannah knew her sister was right. It didn’t pay to be tardy to the breakfast table when Nan was whipping up a full Irish. She’d enough on her plate dealing with her dad without getting offside with her nan as well.
‘Coming, Nan!’ she hollered, hot on the heels of her sister.