"Sorry, lady." The girl had brought her tea. "Sorry, but dogs must wait outside."
"My dog won't hurt anyone."
The girl shook her head. "No dogs inside."
Dolly's cheeks flushed. "Young woman, you may not speak to me that way. I would like to see the person in charge."
People began to stare. Once more the girl shook her head. She opened her mouth again but before she could speak, a smooth voice interrupted. "Thank you, Sonja, I'll handle this." Dick Boyle, manager of the hotel, smiled. "Hello, Mrs. Little. How are you this afternoon?"
"Quite well, until now."
He sat down beside her. "You see, Mrs. Little, it's this way: there are new regulations regarding the operation of food establishments. Animals are prohibited from areas where food is prepared and served, with the exception of those who aid the handicapped. You aren't handicapped are you, Mrs. Little?"
"Most definitely not."
"Well then, I suggest we tie your dog outside the building. He'll be waiting for you when you're finished."
"But I want him with me."
"That isn't possible."
Seamus growled and bared his teeth. Dolly folded her arms. "Seamus stays with me."
Boyle sighed. "They said you were loony, but you're obstinate as well. I'll have to call Johannah."
"Johannah is in Dublin."
"Let her stay," someone called out. "There's no need to abuse an old lady. Let the dog stay, too."
"I can't," asserted the manager. "Please, Mrs. Little. I don't want to call the garda."
"You wouldn't dare. I'll tell your mother, Richard Boyle, that you've the manners of a pig."
"That's it." Boyle stood. "I've tried to be accommodating but you leave me no choice. Finish your tea, Mrs. Little. It's on the house, but I'm calling the garda."
* * *
Liam
He had no idea where to look. Liam was frustrated. He'd never bothered to wonder what Dolly did with her time. How could she have left that way, tying them all up with worry? And then there was his mother on her way to Dublin, a first class hotel and restaurants. She should be here, looking after Nan. She was her mother after all. He had better things to do than mind an old lady. Instantly, he felt the sting of his own selfishness. Johannah looked after everyone. She deserved a break, even when the reason for the trip was business related.
Parking the car on Castle Street, he fished in his pocket hoping to find change for the meter when someone tapped on the window. It was Ciara McCarthy. He rolled it down. "Hello, there."
"Shopping?"
"Not exactly. I'm looking for my grandmother."
"Is she lost?"
"I'm afraid so. She took off some time this morning. She could be anywhere."
Ciara's wing-shaped eyebrows drew together. "Have you contacted her friends?"
"I don't know them."
"Where does she go when she has free time?"
Liam looked sheepish. "I don't know that either. I'm afraid to say that we haven't spent much time together since I left home. I suppose it's my fault. I've been busy."
"Shame on you, Liam." Ciara smiled sunnily. "It's never too late to change. I'll help you."
He laughed. "You'll help me change?"
"No. I'll help you find your grandmother."
He looked surprised. "That's kind of you."
A soulful howl rooted all pedestrian traffic. Ciara pointed toward the Grand Hotel. "I have a strong feeling she might be easier to find than you think."
Liam's gaze followed the direction of her finger. A police vehicle was pulled up in front of the hotel while one of the guards cautiously circled some sort of howling beast. Another two guards pulled a cuffed and struggling woman from the hotel toward the vehicle. Liam recognized the woman immediately. "Stay here," he said, leaving Ciara with the car.
Cursing, he raced down the street, arriving at the same time Seamus had found an opening and, teeth bared, hurled himself at the officer attempting to seat Dolly in the back seat of the car.
"Wait," Liam shouted, pushing aside the guard who had momentarily released his prisoner in an attempt to kick aside the dog attached to his trouser leg. "What are you doing? This is my grandmother. She's eighty years old for Christ sake."
"I'm not eighty, Liam. I'm seventy-six," Dolly announced, "and that man," she pointed to the hotel manager hovering nervously at the entrance to the Grand, "that man refused to serve me."
"I was happy to serve her," Dick Boyle said. "I am happy to serve her, but not her dog. We can't have dogs in eating establishments. We'll be closed down."
Liam was furious. Ignoring Boyle completely, he appealed to the guard who was now restraining Seamus. "She's an old woman. Haven't you crimes to solve? What are you doing abusing an old woman?"
"We had a report," the guard with the ripped trousers replied. "Someone reported she was disturbing the peace."
"Are you out of your mind? Look at her wrists." Liam pointed to the metal circles even now raising angry welts on Dolly's skin. "Take these off immediately."
"I can't be responsible for that, now. She resisted arrest."
"You'll be responsible all right, when we file a law suit against your department."
A crowd had formed. "Shame on you," a bystander shouted. "Let her go. You, give it to 'em, Dolly."
"Don't back down now, Liam," someone else called out. "They're worthless, never there when you want them and now this."
"What's going on here?"
Liam turned. Patrick, his mother's friend, stood beside him.
"They've handcuffed my grandmother."
Patrick nodded at Dolly. "That seems a bit extreme."
"It certainly is," a woman behind them said.
"Lovely to see you, Mickey," Dolly said. "My wrists are hurting. Can you help me?"
Patrick looked at the older guard. "These gentlemen seem like reasonable sorts. I'm sure they understand the situation. Am I right, lads?"
Liam had his arm around his grandmother. The younger of the two guards was fumbling in his pocket. Retrieving the key, he removed the cuffs. The crowd cheered.
"C'mon, Nan," Liam said gently. "The car is down the street." He whistled at the now subdued dog. "Let's go, Seamus."
"What about Mickey? Why isn't he coming with us?"
"Hush, Nan," Liam said under his breath. "Patrick has things to do."
"I didn't mean any harm, Liam," Dick Boyle called out. "Remember me to your mother."
Liam ignored him and led his grandmother, the dog following, up the street to the car. Just then, Kate rounded the corner of Castle Street, sighing with relief when she saw her brother and grandmother. "Liam, thank God you found her."
"You missed the excitement. Dick Boyle called the guards on her because of the damn dog." Liam could barely get the words out. "They cuffed her, sons-of-bitches. Look at her wrists. She needs a doctor."
Kate's eyes filled. "Oh, my God. Mom will kill me. I was supposed to look after her."
"Don't cry, Katie," Dolly soothed her. "I don't need a doctor. Mickey took care of the guards and Liam will drive us home."
Kate groaned. "Nan, please don't say things like that. Dad's dead. People won't understand."
Dolly shook her head. "I see him, Kate. I see him all the time."
"All the time?"
Dolly considered. "No, I suppose not. I saw him three times. At Kevin Barry's, at your mother's dinner, and just now, on the street."
Kate bit her lip. "How did he take care of the guards?"
"Never mind all that now," Liam said. "For some reason she's got it in her head that Patrick is Dad. I have to admit, he's been more than kind to us. We'll go home and think no more about it."
Kate narrowed her eyes and stared at the woman sitting in the driver's seat of Liam's car. "Is that Ciara McCarthy in your car?"
"I was asking if she'd seen Nan when the commotion started. She's probably waiting to hear what happened."
"Ciara McCarthy?"
; Liam bristled. "Why not? Do I interrogate you about your friends?"
"No, of course not. It's just that I didn't know you were friends."
"I don't tell you everything, Kate. You're my sister, not my priest."
"No need to be so touchy, Liam. I only asked." Kate slipped her arm around her grandmother's shoulders. "Are you hungry, Nan? Did you have your tea?"
"No, I didn't," replied Dolly. "You must remind me to tell Annie Boyle that her son is a pig."
"Maybe we should forget all about this, Nan," suggested Liam, "and next time you want to go out, tell one of us. We'll be happy to take you."
Dolly looked skeptical. "Will you really, Liam?"
"Absolutely."
"I suppose I could do that, if you promise."
"I promise, and Kate does, too." He challenged his sister. "You do promise, don't you, Kate?"
Kate shuddered. "I certainly do."
Chapter 24
Johannah
Johannah edged over to the side of the narrow road, considered the space available for passing traffic, and forced her left tires up over the curb. Then she consulted her map. This clearly wasn't the bypass road. Driving through the town centre of Naas, Ireland's horse capital, would take more than twenty minutes and eliminate any hope of freshening up at the hotel before her meeting.
A knock on the window startled her.
"Are you lost?" a man shouted through the glass.
Johannah nodded and opened the window. "I'm looking for the bypass road to Dublin."
"You missed the turn."
"I didn't see a sign."
"There is one but it's down," he explained, pointing to a spot down the road. "If you look in the grass about thirty spades from the road, you'll see it."
"In the grass?" Johannah repeated. "I'm supposed to look in the grass?"
He nodded. "You would have seen it straight away."
She pointed to the cross in the road she'd recently passed. "If I take the left fork, will that get me there?"
"You might but it would take you by way of Kinsale."
"Kinsale? I don't want to go to Kinsale. That's on the other side of the country."
"That's where the left fork will take you."
Fighting back a headache, Johannah forced herself to speak calmly. "Is it the right fork I should take at the cross?"
"That would be the one."
"Let me be clear. Is that the one to get me straight there?"
"If it's Dublin you want."
"It is."
He leaned against the window and stroked his chin. "I can't think why. T'is an unpleasant place, Dublin is. But there's no accounting for tastes. I suppose there are reasons aplenty for traveling to Dublin."
"I'm going to a meeting," Johannah volunteered, "to prevent a salary cut."
He straightened and held out his hand. Johannah took it. "God bless you, lass. You're working for all of us." He stepped back. "Now go along and mind you, take the left fork."
"The left one. I thought you said that led to Kinsale?"
"I was having a bit of fun with you. T'is the left fork after all."
Johannah sighed. She'd never get to Dublin at this rate. "Now I don't know whether to trust you."
"There's none better." He laughed. "My mother was a Tralee lass just like yourself. I can't mistake the speech. Be off with you now and take the left fork. I wouldn't steer you wrong."
As it was, she was already late by the time she parked in the hotel carpark. Foregoing check-in until a later time, she made her way to the conference room and cautiously opened the door.
Jack Rafferty stood at the head of a long, oval table, his back to the door, referring to a power point presentation visible on the overhead screen. His voice was low and confident with an accent that did not belong in the Republic. Johannah stiffened. She knew nothing about the union organizer except by reputation. Although his name was Irish, his accent was from Belfast. If she was sent here to learn negotiation methods from an Orangeman, she would just as soon leave now.
Then he turned, nodded at her and, without skipping a beat, continued speaking. Johannah's relief was palpable. Despite his cultured accent, impeccable haircut and tailor-made suit, his eyes, even from where she stood, shone clear like blue glass, and the fine lines at the corners of his mouth could only have come from a lifetime of laughter. This man was definitely one of their own.
Billy Roache caught her eye and motioned to the empty seat beside him. Carefully stepping over an obstacle course of legs, Johannah made her way to the far corner of the room, sat down, and attempted to concentrate on the message.
"The good news is," Rafferty said, "Ireland is a country with a long history of social service. Now that we're part of the EU, certain basic necessities for our elderly, our children and our unemployed must be maintained. The bad news is that we're a people accustomed to subjugation, to suffering, to doing without. We've had enough of upheaval and rioting." He paused.
Nods and scattered whispers broke the silence. He held up his hand. "With that, I must tell you it's time to get over the distaste for public spectacle. You must put your reservations aside. You are not alone. Talk to each other. Nearly every county in The Republic is represented. Protests, marches, and public gatherings, especially in large numbers, are resources that many of you find tawdry, but are necessary for successful arbitration and resolution. The public will support you. A good percentage of our population collect public benefits. You're not asking for salary and benefit increases. You're asking to maintain what you have, which isn't unreasonable. It certainly won't make anyone here wealthy."
He smiled and, once again, subdued laughter lowered the tension level in the room. "Strike is a last resort," he reassured them. "Rarely does it come to that." He closed his notebook. "With that, I'll leave you to your tea. We'll meet again this evening and discuss specifics for your region. Thank you, ladies and gentlemen." He held up a legal notepad. "Don't forget to sign in."
Billy Roache turned to Johannah. "Go along now and check off your name. Then we'll talk about our tea."
"If you don't mind, Billy, I'll just go up to my room. I took a wrong turn and got held up. I need a few minutes to clean up and rest."
"Not a bit. Take your time. I'll stop off at the bar and have a few pints." He winked. "Ellie won't mind, especially if she doesn't know."
Johannah hesitated. Her inclination was to warn him they had another meeting this evening but good manners and natural reserve stopped her. He already knew that. Experience told her she could no more prevent him from indulging than his wife could. Besides, it was none of her business. "I'll see you later, then." Hooking the strap of her briefcase over her shoulder, she picked up her handbag and made her way around the table to the sign-in sheet.
Jack Rafferty handed her a pen. "Mrs. Enright, is it?"
"Yes." Johannah scribbled her name and returned the pen. "How did you know?"
"Your name wasn't checked off. It was the only one."
"Sorry about that. I don't get out much."
"It was an observation, not a criticism."
She raised her eyebrows. "You can't imagine how relieved I am to hear that. I was trembling in my pumps all the way over here."
For an instant he looked surprised. Then he threw back his head and laughed.
She waited until he'd finished. "Did you want to tell me something, Mr. Rafferty, or may I go up to my room now? It's been a long day."
"I'd much rather you let me buy you a drink in the bar."
"Actually, that's another thing I don't do much of. But thank you for the offer just the same."
His smile faded. "Have you taken a dislike to me, Mrs. Enright?"
"Not at all. I'm just very tired."
He looked unconvinced.
She relented. "To prove it to you, I'm going to insist that you give up the Mrs. Enright and call me Johannah. I'm on a first name basis with all my friends."
"Thanks. I'll do that. Get some rest, Johannah. I'
ll see you at half eight."
"Ring me if I'm not down. I never can figure out how to manage hotel alarm clocks. They either don't go off altogether or they shout me awake in the middle of the night."
"I'll do that if you'll give me your room number."
She paused at the door. "Call the desk. They'll connect you."
Her room overlooked the square. Seated in a high-backed chair, a hot cup of tea in her hand, she thought back over their conversation. Could he possibly have been flirting with her? It had been so long she couldn't be sure. Did people actually fence with words anymore, or did they simply lay their cards on the table and exchange room keys? Jack Rafferty was appealing in a refined, articulate sort of way, not at all like Mickey.
Sex was something Johannah didn't think about. There was no point. She'd relegated the subject of intimacy with a man to the think-about-it-later part of her mind, due to lack of opportunity rather than disinterest. It saddened her to think of that part of her life as permanently over. She would have liked to invite Jack Rafferty to her room, if only to satisfy her curiosity but, according to Maura, most men expected repeat performances and Johannah wasn't the least bit interested in that either. She was fifty years old and no longer willing to compromise. Women always compromised, pretending they were less capable, less intelligent, their work less important. Sex was responsible. For a woman, sex led to love and love made her sappy. Johannah considered herself a prime example. She would have done anything for love of Mickey Enright. She had done anything and put up with everything because she loved him, and before that she'd felt the same about Francie O'Shea. She wouldn't necessarily have changed it, but she was older now. That part of her was finished and she certainly wasn't going to walk in blindly again.
Hannie Rising Page 15