Chapter 24
‘Buckle in.’ Chris looked past Grace to where Mr Gallagher had joined his wife in the fracas and shook his shaggy blonde head before performing a U-turn and putting distance between them all. ‘What was that all about?’
‘Emerald Bay politics. It doesn’t pay to get caught up in them.’ Grace grinned, catching his eye and holding it a touch too long, but his eyes really did look impossibly blue today. It was his shirt, she decided. It was the exact same shade.
Her hand twitched with the urge to touch him. She wanted to rest it on his forearm or lay her head on his shoulder, and her stomach churned with frustration. Although, the churning could have been down to the cake she’d been snaffling. Either way, it amazed her that Chris wasn’t picking up on the overload of pheromones she must be giving off. So much for being a professional.
Hannah cleared her throat, breaking the spell.
‘Chris, you’ll have seen my sister Hannah around, I’m sure.’ She flapped her hand toward the back seat. ‘Hannah lives in Cork these days. She’s our global warrior.’
Hannah grinned back a greeting. ‘How’re you, Chris? I’ve vague memories of a skinny little lad with an angelic voice in church. Would that be you?’
Chris laughed, his eyes creasing as he glanced up at the rear-view mirror to see Hannah as he replied. ‘You forgot the milk-bottle glasses, and it would. Only I don’t sing in the choir anymore.’
‘Or wear those glasses. I think it’s a grand thing you’re after doing putting together this festival with Grace. I want to help.’ Hannah explained what she did for Feed the World with Bees and how she planned to get her colleagues on board with getting the word out about the festival.
Meanwhile, Grace, settling in for the short but bumpy ride down the lane to Enda’s farm, locked her pheromones away and gave Ryan a quick call, pressing her finger over her right ear so she could hear what he was panting down the phone. When she’d ended the call, she twisted in her seat to face Chris and Hannah. ‘Ryan’s out for a run, but he can be at the farm in half an hour.’ She turned back as they rounded a bend, and there was the gate leading to Enda’s tumbledown cottage. It was closed.
The retired farmer had no clue they were coming, and as Chris braked to a stop, Grace volunteered to open it, leaving her laptop on the floor of the car.
She immediately regretted offering her services as her trainer squelched into something soft and squidgy. Hannah, grinning from ear to ear with her nose pressed to the car’s back window, had a front-row seat to her sister dancing about and wiping the cow pat off her shoe on the grass and was flipped a rude hand gesture as Chris crawled past, idling the car a little inside the entrance. The passenger window slid down, and he called to see if she was jumping back in.
‘No, you go on ahead. I’ll walk up. It’ll give me a chance to wipe this off my shoe.’ She held her dung-covered foot up in disgust and saw him smother a smile. ‘It’s not funny, youse two!’ Grace called, but they were already bouncing up the two-lane track to Enda’s ramshackle farm cottage.
By the time Grace reached them, still scuffing her shoe on the grass, they’d already knocked on the door. There was no sign of Shep, who’d have been out to greet them if the farmer was around. But they were here now anyway, Grace thought and said, ‘Enda won’t mind us having a scout about.’
She beckoned the other two to follow her and led the way past the rusting equipment lying about, surplus to requirement, through to the fields adjacent to the farm’s cottage, being careful where she trod. So far as she knew, the only farm animals Enda had these days were a cow for milking and hens, because he’d gift their nan with a dozen fresh eggs now and again, as though he were showering her in diamonds. Everybody loves a trier except Nan, Grace thought, eyeing the expanse of waving green grass. A sheep’s paradise.
There was no sign of animal life, but Grace called over her shoulder to Hannah, ‘Make sure you close that gate properly.’ On occasion, Enda let his land for grazing, and there could be sheep or a few cows, maybe even a Connemara pony or two, in the field hidden from their view by the hedgerow.
‘What exactly are we looking for?’ Hannah asked, catching them up. ‘I mean, we’re looking for where the stage should go, but what makes it the right spot?’
Grace didn’t know the answer herself, and both sisters looked to Chris, who paused and looked around him. He raked his hair back from his face, his eyes hidden behind sunglasses as he stood in his customary T-shirt and worn-in jeans with the farmhouse as a backdrop. Grace thought he could have been starring in a music video that would have had her hitting pause on MTV. Why he’d be filming a music video on a farm was neither here nor there. All she knew was it was hard to concentrate on what he was saying.
Radishes, radishes, radishes.The thought of the mustardy little root vegetable did the trick, and she dragged her eyes slowly back up his body to settle on his moving mouth and focused on what was coming out of it.
‘It needs to be positioned to suit the way the crowd will gather so they’ve plenty of space around them, and so we can have an evacuation plan in place. We’ll need to decide where the Portaloos, hot food and drink caravans will go, too. You don’t want the stage facing into the wind either, or the sound will get carried away from the concertgoers.’
Chris patted down his pockets and frowned. ‘I left my phone in the car. I want to send some shots of the location to the lads back in London. You two carry on. I’ll be back in a tick.’
The two sisters continued picking their way over the rucked grassy field. Grace, aware of Hannah staring at her in her peripheral vision, swung her head toward her. ‘Why are you smirking?’
‘Why do you think?’
‘I haven’t a clue.’ Actually, she had a pretty good idea what had tickled Hannah.
‘Did you accidentally on purpose forget to mention exactly how hot your, ahem, “housemate” is, and I mean’ – Hannah stuck her index finger in her mouth then held it up, making a ‘sssss’ sound – ‘sizzling. I can see why you fancy him. Even if he is off limits. You did say he has a girlfriend, right?’
‘Ulla. And I don’t fancy him.’ Grace didn’t know why she was bothering to deny it. She was only human, after all. She didn’t want to get into it, though, because they were here for a reason, and as such, she pointed to the far corner of the field. ‘Do you think over there could be a good site?’
‘Don’t try and change the subject on me, Grace Kelly. I’m not done with the hot housemate yet. I nearly got high in the car back there from the chemistry between the pair of youse.’
Grace swung her head in her sister’s direction and snapped, ‘Hannah, you just said it yourself. He’s off limits. Not only does he have a girlfriend, but can you imagine Dad if anything happened between us? So, even if I hold my hand up to fancying him a little, teeny tiny bit, he doesn’t fancy me, and nothing will happen between us. I want you to drop it, all right?’
Hannah studied her sister’s face for a moment, and Grace could see she was torn between teasing her further and not wanting to take things too far. Then her expression changed, and Grace realised she was no longer looking at her but past her. She swivelled to see what had caught her attention.
‘Grace, that cow’s got horns.’ Hannah’s voice wobbled uncertainly as her sister tracked her gaze.
The two sisters stared at the sleek black apparition that had materialised in the gap between the hedgerow, where the gate to the adjoining field had been left open, and was now eyeballing them.
‘Are those udders, do you think, or dangly boy bits? I can’t tell from here.’ Hannah’s previous cocky banter was a memory now.
‘Shall we whip the binoculars out and take a closer look?’ Grace muttered, adding, ‘My money’s on it being a bull, given those horns.’
‘What? Like one of those snorty, angry ones the Spanish matadors flap their capes at?’
Grace nodded.
‘’Tis a terrible thing, bullfighting. I don’t blame the poor bulls for being angry. Do you think that one’s friendly?’
‘Why don’t you stroll on over and ask how its day’s going?’ Grace suggested through gritted teeth, feeling a stab of fear as its eyes, black as coals, seemed to glow the longer she looked at him.
‘There’s no need for sarcasm.’ Hannah’s hand flew to her head.
‘Don’t make any sudden moves,’ Grace hissed.
‘I was just thinking. You know that saying about a red rag to a bull?’
‘What about it?’
‘Well, do you think my hair counts?’
‘It probably hasn’t helped, but I think he’s wondering what we’re doing in his field.’ Oh, how she wished she’d checked in with Enda first. It was too late now, though.
‘I’ve an idea,’ Hannah whispered.
‘What?’
‘You could use that cardy you’ve draped over your shoulders as a cape if it charges us.’
‘Shut up, Hannah! I’m not going to fight the bull with my cardigan.’
‘Well, what do you suggest we do? I’m worried it’s confused us with a pair of friendly cows.’ Hannah’s voice was notching toward hysteria.
Grace gulped air. She frantically flicked back over all the wildlife programmes she’d watched throughout her lifetime, settling on a snippet of footage featuring an elephant. A bull and an elephant were very different creatures, but it would have to do. She recalled the presenter saying if you happened across an elephant in the wild, the best thing to do was to stay calm – easier said than done, obviously – and not to make any sudden moves. You weren’t to turn your back on it and should step away from the animal slowly.
Her lips were parchment dry as she relayed the plan of creeping backwards toward the gate while keeping their eyes pinned on the bull, and the sisters began to move carefully, slowly putting distance between themselves and the beast.
‘Why’s it pawing the ground?’ Hannah asked.
‘I’m not a farmer. How should I know?’
‘Well, you seem to think you’re the bull whisperer.’
‘One of us had to come up with a plan of action that didn’t involve my cardigan.’
The animal dipped its head threateningly.
Grace and Hannah locked eyes. You didn’t need to be a bovine expert to know they were in trouble.
‘Run!’ Grace bellowed, and adrenaline saw the sisters cross the remainder of that field like they were both wearing a pair of seven-league boots. Then, flashing back to the hurdle racing in their school days, the duo swung their left legs high, clearing the gate in a single leap.
Ryan’s Hilux had pulled up behind Chris’s, and the two men were leaning against it in conversation when Grace and Hannah came flying over the top of the gate.
‘Jaysus, you too have obviously been eating your porridge!’ Ryan pressed himself against his vehicle as they skidded toward him and Chris. ‘Is it Ireland’s Olympic steeplechase squad you’re after trialling for?’
‘The bull!’ Grace managed to splutter before bending over and trying to catch her breath as she and Hannah gasped out fragments of what had just transpired.
Ryan pushed off the Hilux and strode over to the gate.
‘Be careful, Ryan – it might headbutt its way through!’ Grace warned.
‘Are youse on about that cow eating the grass over there?’
Chris joined him. ‘I’d say she’s a Kerry cow.’
Grace and Hannah, red-faced but no longer gasping like they were deep-sea divers coming up for air, shook their heads.
‘Listen to Farmer Brown and his know-it-all friend there,’ Hannah muttered as Enda rolled up the drive with Shep barking a welcome on the back of his truck.
The collie dog might be retired, but he still had plenty of energy, Grace thought as he jumped about, enjoying the attention Chris lavished on him. He suited a dog, and she recalled him saying he’d love to have one the day he’d first come up with the music festival. Now, here they were, scoping out locations –or at least trying to!
Enda cackled, the sound whistling through the gaps in his missing bottom teeth, when he heard about Grace and Hannah’s purported near-death experience with Big Bessie, who was indeed a Kerry breed of cow.
Ryan made Chris laugh by enunciating, ‘How now, brown cow.’
Grace and Hannah knew it would be a while before they could put what had just unfolded behind them. Grace also suspected she’d torn a muscle in her leg thanks to her unexpected foray into the world of hurdling.
It looked like a trip to the pharmacy was in order.