Chapter 38
‘Cows from over the sea have long horns,’ Kitty Kelly declared, glaring down at her granddaughter.
‘The C word is banned, Nan. Hannah will tell you the same. And what does that even mean?’ Grace looked up from where she’d been putting a half-hearted effort into the series of Instagram posts she’d scheduled for the Shamrockers.
‘It’s self-explanatory.’
‘Erm, no, it’s not, Nan.’
‘It means it’s not necessarily better just because something is in a far-off land.’
‘I take it by far-off land you mean London.’
Kitty dished up a serving of sarcasm. ‘There’s no flies on you, Grace Kelly.’
‘I wasn’t thinking about London, and I don’t even get how that’s relevant to me sitting here quietly working on my laptop at the Shamrock.’
‘Eating crisps more like.’ Kitty scooped up not one but two empty packets. ‘Hannah, you’re to stop giving your sister crisps. Or we’ll have none left for the paying punters,’ she called over her shoulder.
Hannah didn’t acknowledge her. She was too busy serving the minivan load of Australians who’d not long piled in the door seeking refreshments.
‘It’s a good job your father’s indisposed, Grace. He’d not be happy if he knew you were eating his profits. And the grass isn’t always greener, you know.’
‘Nan, I told you I wasn’t thinking about London, and would you stop talking in riddles?’
Kitty pulled out a chair and sat down. ‘Well, if you’re not missing that sprawling, grimy, crime-ridden city you’re so fond of, what’s on your mind then? Is it a certain young man, perchance?’
Grace bristled. ‘No, it is not.’ Although, she hadn’t thought about much else, and sleep had been elusive last night. It wasn’t every day a girl inadvertently declared her love for her spoken-for flatmate. Nan didn’t need to know that, though. As for London, given her current mood, she’d happily hole up at the Shamrock for the rest of her days, existing on a diet of cheese-and-onion crisps instead of going back home to face the music. But Chris and the reception she’d get when she returned to London weren’t the only things on her mind.
‘I don’t know what to do about the council playing hardball. They refuse to consider our event application, and nobody is returning my calls.’ Grace picked up her phone and shook it.
‘You don’t give up is what you do, Grace. And you certainly don’t mope. That won’t get anything done. Think about what we’ve to be grateful for. Your father, for one thing.’
Nan had a point. Dad was doing great and beginning to annoy everyone, because he was fed up with sitting about being waited on. The doctor had given him the all-clear to carry on as usual, he’d announced yet again over breakfast. Mam had conceded one more day and he could show his face behind the bar. Right now, though, moping and giving up was precisely what Grace wanted to do.
Kitty tsked. ‘I’ll make you some proper food. You can’t think clearly or put a plan into action with nothing but crisps in your system. A batch of my oatmeal biscuits should do the trick. I’ll have to hide them well from your father, mind. You know what he’s like.’
Nan was missing baking and looking for an excuse, Grace thought. The irony of her nan’s statement about crisps not doing her any favours as she set off to toss a cup load of sugar into her biscuit mix saw Grace grin. Ah, well, she’d succeeded in making her smile, and oats were good for you at any rate.
Her gaze moved toward the bar. She should be helping Hannah, because she was milking this leg business. It was barely bothering her now, but if she were to get up and pull a pint, she’d be accused of being Ireland’s most miserable bar person. God, she’d made such a mess of things.
Her phone alerted her to a text; it was Clara checking in. She ignored it, not wanting to share the bad news with her friend, and she wasn’t ready to share her humiliation where Chris was concerned either.
‘Grace!’ Hannah was jumping about behind the bar.
‘You should have told me you needed the loo sooner,’ Grace griped. ‘I’ll keep an eye out. Off you trot.’
‘I don’t need the loo, you eejit.’ Hannah was waving her phone about.
‘The council waived the application.’
‘What?’
‘You heard. Emerald Grooves is full steam ahead.’
‘But how?’
‘I looked into things. The pre-event licence application is only necessary if you expect over five thousand people to attend. With the best will in the world, I don’t think we’ll be attracting that many. You should sack Isla for not digging deeper when the authorities vetoed it.’
‘You’re amazing, Hannah.’
Hannah ran her fingers through her colourful hair and grinned. ‘Thank you. Can I have that in writing?’ Then she grew serious. ‘It’s not about being amazing, though, Grace. It’s about questioning things. And pushing until you get the answers you want.’
Hannah should know – she’d tied herself to a tree over what she believed in before. Grace got up to hug her sister, but both girls were distracted by Mr Kenny nudging the door with his scooter, and instead of heading behind the bar, Grace held the door for him.
‘Thank you, Grace. ’Tis good news I bring.’
‘Come on in and join the party, then, Mr Kenny. It’s good news we’re after having, too.’
He puttered inside then held his clipboard out. ‘It’s official. I’ve the most signatures.’
Grace took the clipboard from him and scanned the names. She didn’t recognise a good portion. ‘Who’s the Gillies family from Limerick, or the Murphys from Balbriggan?’
Mr Kenny looked sheepish.
Hannah leaned on the bar. ‘What have you been up to, Mr Kenny?’
‘I may or may not have flagged down the odd passing car to sway the odds in my favour.’
Grace and Hannah burst out laughing. ‘Good for you!’
‘Now it’s a pint I shall need to celebrate my victory.’
‘Coming right up,’ Hannah said, looking at her sister. ‘Hey, you’re not hobbling anymore!’
It was Grace’s turn to look sheepish. She suspected she’d be roped in to help behind the bar for the remainder of her time in Emerald Bay.