Chapter 27 #2
“This is a public beach,” she says to the gathered crowd.
She stands on a sea-beaten log with Ned beside her, looking like he’s about to head into battle.
“The oceans are for everyone; this land is for everyone. This beach has stood open to anyone who wants to visit it for hundreds of years and now they just want to seal it off? For some luxury hotel that’ll take it from us?
That’ll continue to cordon off each bit of land until there’s nothing left? Is that what we want?”
“No!” the crowd yells, and Tomasz laughs when I join in with them.
She doesn’t need a megaphone, even with the wind and the roar of the ocean behind us.
Her voice carries loud and clear, full of purpose.
Full of promise. I’ve never seen her like this before.
I didn’t accompany her on her protests and marches when we were younger.
I only saw her arguments around the family dinner table, which didn’t have the same effect.
Or at the Easter Fun Day, where her zeal had seemed misplaced among the petting zoo and painted eggs. But now she’s in her element.
“She’s really good at this,” I say to Tomasz from where we linger at the back of the crowd.
“I know. It’s how we first met.”
“I thought you met on a night out?”
“We did,” he says affectionately. “We were in the queue for Coppers,” he explains, mentioning the famous nightclub in Dublin.
“She was standing in front of me and someone had the misfortune to litter right beside her. I’d never seen anyone so fired up.
” He grins at the memory. “I thought she was drunk but then I learned that’s just Louise.
I fell a little bit in love with her right there. ”
“That’s sweet. I think.”
“She’ll never be a diplomat,” he says as a photographer snaps a picture of her. “But she cares. And she tries. I’ve never met anyone like her.” His eyes drift over my shoulder. “Oh, look,” he adds casually. “Your special friend.”
“Abby!”
I turn to see Luke striding toward me, dressed inappropriately for the drizzly weather in shorts and an Oceans T-shirt.
“Did I miss anything?” he asks. Before I can respond he kisses me hello in front of everyone. Tomasz politely averts his gaze.
“They just started,” I say when I find my voice again. “We’re waiting for the developers.”
As I speak, the crowd starts to break apart, taking up their positions along the entry points to the beach. Louise heads toward us.
“I brought some friends,” he says when she nears, and gestures behind us to where even more cars are looking for a space to park.
“Is it press?” Louise asks.
“Even better,” Luke says seriously. “It’s Clonard’s under-seventeen girl’s football team. Division Three almost-champions.”
“Almost?”
“You have to win it to be champions.”
She stares at him. “You brought the whole team here?”
“Sure,” he says. “I just sent a text around telling them to—” He breaks off as Louise grabs the front of his T-shirt, holding him steady as she kisses him firmly on the cheek. “Thank you,” she says before she hurries over to them.
Tomasz takes a sip of tea from his flask. “She does that again and you’re going on my list, my friend.”
“Hi, Mr. Bailey,” a few of the girls call in unison. Luke waves as they start to pull the T-shirts on over their clothes, but it’s the mothers who are watching him, smiling broadly as their gazes linger. Suddenly Tomasz’s list doesn’t seem so ridiculous.
“What?” Luke asks at the look on my face.
“You really are oblivious, aren’t you?”
“To what?”
He looks so confused that I laugh, kissing him on the other cheek for good measure.
“You better go say hello,” I say, pushing him toward them as Ned corrals me into the water to get some pictures.
I put a T-shirt on over my dress and wade into the ocean, holding up one end of a banner that says in large stern letters, our waters belong to everyone .
They’ve just taken the first few pictures when the first trucks arrive.
The students start to boo as the builders get out, but they don’t seem too bothered, probably not caring what happens so long as they’re getting paid to be there.
I rejoin Louise on the shore as a sleeker car pulls up to the dunes, the reporters gathering around us.
To my surprise, only one suit man is there, and he’s not even in a suit, but beige chinos and a blue-and-pink-striped shirt.
His face is red, his hair is white, and he has the air of a middle-class man used to getting his way.
“Louise,” he greets as she stomps over to him. “You want to tell me who tipped you off this time?”
“Not a chance.”
“You can’t stay here forever you know. This is a perfectly legal transaction and one that will hugely benefit our community.”
“By restricting access to natural resources?”
“By bringing jobs to the surrounding area. By bringing tourists and visitors in to experience the beauty that you and I both love so much.”
“And by kicking out locals to do so. I’ve been coming to this beach every year since I was a child, Mr. Agnew.” Her voice rises to be heard by all. “And as an expectant mother , I intend to bring my own children here as well.”
Agnew smiles at her, his voice dropping so no one could hear it but us. “You’re pregnant?”
“And not afraid to use it.”
His eyes flick to the side, taking in the crowd. “Is that a City FM reporter?”
“RTé have already come and gone,” she says, matching his volume. “The Irish Independent will be out here this afternoon.”
“A slow news day.”
“Not anymore.”
He hesitates, pursing his lips before his expression smooths once again. “Fine. No handcuffing this time, you hear me?”
“I’ll make sure to run the list of demonstrations by your office.”
He goes to retort when his eyes flick to her stomach and back again, frustration flashing across his face. “You can have today,” he says, speaking louder again. “But we’ll be back tomorrow.”
“And we’ll be here,” Louise calls as he heads back to the car. The crowd behind us starts to cheer, the photographers snapping away.
“ That’s how you wanted to reveal your pregnancy?” I ask.
“It worked didn’t it?”
“I guess,” I say, as Agnew drives off. “Is that it?”
“Yes, Abby. They’ve given up and the beach is ours.”
“I really can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic or—”
“No, that’s not it.”
“Oh.” I watch as Tomasz offers a pack of biscuits to the builders. “So you’re just going to do the same tomorrow.”
“Yep.”
“And you really think you’ll be able to stop it?”
“No.”
“ No? ” I stare at her. “Then what are we all doing here?”
“We rarely stop these things,” she says. “It’s David and Goliath. But that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try. And maybe we’ll get lucky. Maybe we’ll get some interest, but at the end of the day, he’s right. It’s a legal transaction. It’s not our land.”
“But it is our land,” I protest.
“Careful,” she says with a smile. “You’re starting to sound like me.”
“I’m learning that’s not really a bad thing.”
Her gaze softens at the almost-compliment. “We try, Abby. And we keep trying. We keep standing up for what we know is right and sometimes it works. We won’t go without a fight.”
I gaze out over the assembled crowd, more relaxed now that the man in the nice car has gone.
There’s a buzz about the place, the younger kids starting to play in the water, the older ones sitting in the sand, making posters.
A few photographers still linger, taking random shots of their beaming faces.
“You know,” I say. “This is kind of fun. Why didn’t you ask me to come to these things before?
“I asked you to come every weekend!” Louise exclaims.
“No, you didn’t.”
“Yes, I did! I…” She trails off when she sees my grin. “You’re in a good mood.”
“All this people power. Maybe I’ll—” I break off as she wraps her arms around me, squeezing me so tight it almost hurts. “Ow.”
“Shut up.” A final squeeze and she lets me go. “I’m glad you’re here, Abby.”
And I don’t know whether she means here as in the protest or here as in Ireland, but I like to think it’s a bit of both. “Anytime, sis.”
I clear my throat as my phone vibrates in my pocket. “That’s probably the president for you,” I say, and she smirks as I step away, clicking accept on the private number.
“Hello?”
“Is this Abby Reynolds?”
I still at the English accent in my ear. Cheerful and polite and what I’ve spent weeks wishing for.
“Speaking,” I say.
Louise’s smile fades at the formality of my tone.
“This is Yuusuf Davies. I’m calling from Stewarts. I’m sorry to catch you on the weekend.”
I turn my back on my sister, facing the dunes as we speak, though she doesn’t leave to give me privacy.
“We liked your … impressed with… willing to relocate…”
I pick up the words faintly as if I’m listening to a conversation between two other people but manage to make all the appropriate noises in all the right places.
When I finish I don’t move, standing there refreshing my phone for the email I asked for, so I would have written confirmation of what just happened.
It lands in my inbox as someone calls my name and I turn just in time to be swept into the arms of Luke. He lifts me until my boots leave the ground and I laugh as he instantly drops me back down, the front of my T-shirt covered in sand and seawater.
“Shit.” He laughs. “Sorry.”
“It’s fine, I don’t care.”
“Are you okay? You’ve gone really pale.”
“I’m cold.”
“Of course you are,” he mutters, leaning down to kiss me, once, twice, and a third lingering time.
“Ahem.” Louise coughs beside us but she doesn’t sound mad.
“I’m just off the phone with Mam and Dad,” Luke says to her when he lifts his head. “They want you to come around for an early lunch. Said you’ll be too tired to cook.”
“Well, they’re not wrong about that.”
“You think you’ll be ready in an hour? Or do you need to stay here longer?”
“I can go. Some of the students said they’re going to camp out tonight. Let me just check in with them.”
“Grand. I’ll meet you back at the house?” he asks me, and I nod, smiling as he kisses me again. “I’m going to say goodbye to the team.”
I watch him jog off toward the water, where the girls are taking selfies, and feel a longing so great it almost hurts.
“Be careful.”
Louise’s expression is grim as she gazes after him.
“He knows what this is,” I say.
“Do you?”
She only looks at me when I don’t respond, touching my arm briefly before she gets back to work.
It’s a while before we’re able to leave.
Louise does a couple more interviews and then coordinates the plan for tomorrow before we’re finally in the car.
With nothing to bring to Pat and Susan’s, Tomasz drops me a few minutes from the house so I can jump in the shower while they take a detour to pick up dessert from Beth’s.
I’ve just turned onto our street when I remember I don’t have any keys and I take out my phone to ask where they keep the spare set when I see a list of notifications peering up at me.
Three missed calls from Jess. One voicemail.
I pause in the driveway confused as I listen to it. It’s nothing unusual. I used to get drunken voicemails from her all the time. But this one, a quick “Call me when you get the chance” one, is different. She sounds nervous and, even more worryingly, sober.
When I call back she answers immediately.
“Abby?” Her voice is quiet and I wonder what time it is in New York.
“What’s wrong?”
“Have you heard from Tyler recently?”
I frown, shifting my phone to the other ear. “No.”
“He texted me a few hours ago. I don’t think he has your Irish number. He was trying to call you.”
“I don’t use that phone anymore. Is he okay?” Visions of him lying in a hospital bed fill my mind.
“He’s fine. But he said he was—”
“Abby.”
I spin around at my name, staring wide-eyed at the man on my sister’s porch.
Tyler.