Page 10 of A Very Irish Christmas
I stride purposefully forward, but he runs ahead, whirls around to face me and lets out a loud bark. The kind that makes me feel like if I don’t do as I’m told, he might take a chunk out of me. I am trapped between Whimsy Cottage and the pub, so close I could make a sprint for it – but between us is this determined hellhound. He has frozen again, ears twitching, waiting for my next move.
I swerve to the left, waving my arms and telling him to shoo, and he immediately lands in front of me, front paws in the mud, barking loudly.Shit. I am wet, cold, and being herded by a possessed collie. Just as I don’t think it can get any worse, I hear a man’s voice shout: ‘Oi! Eejit!’
My eyes go wide, and the dog barely reacts.Eejit? On top of all of this, someone is now hurling abuse at me? I look up, and see a tall, brawny figure heading towards us.
‘Eejit!’ he yells again, louder. I’m torn between yelling back at him, and retreating into the relative safety of the cottage.
Before I get the chance to decide, a female voice joins in, and an elderly woman stands before me, also shouting: ‘Eejit!’ at the top of her voice. Before long, a couple of kids, maybe seven or eight years old, emerge from one of the cottages and add their voices to the chorus.
I am cold, confused, and a little scared – why are they all shouting at me? What have I done wrong? What stupid unwritten English rule have I broken? I’m standing in torrential rain, hemmed in by a crazed dog, surrounded by a circle of strangers all chanting the word ‘eejit’ at me. It’s like a horror movie, but wetter.
‘I’m not an eejit!’ I cry out loud. ‘And you can all… feck off!’
‘Not you, darlin’,’ the elderly woman shouts back, her rich Irish accent so much like Nanna Nora’s that it makes me suck in a shocked breath. ‘The dog! That’s his name, so!’
‘He doesn’t eat people!’ one of the children calls out, helpfully.
‘Very often,’ the other one adds, giggling.
‘Ignore them,’ the older woman says, ‘they’re wee devils! Eejit won’t hurt you, I promise – he just thinks you might be a lost sheep. Takes his work very seriously, that one.’
Huh, I think, vaguely reassured – maybe he’s right about that. I am little bit of a lost sheep. One that very much wants to go to the pub.
‘What do I do?’ I ask, staring into Eejit’s blue eyes.
‘Don’t worry, chicken, Ryan will sort him out.’
The big man – Ryan, I guess – walks to stand beside me. He nods at me once, but I barely register him. I’m keeping my gaze on the dog.
‘Hold my hand, sweetheart,’ the man says, his voice a calm and amused whisper of Irish charm in my ear.
‘No! I don’t even know you!’
‘That’s nothing that time can’t cure – but it’s for the dog. If he sees you’re with me, he’ll stop guarding you. If he knows the alpha dog is protecting you, he can relax and everything will be grand.’
‘And you’re the alpha dog in this scenario?’
‘Sure I am,’ he says, grinning at me. I see a flash of teeth in the gloom, and for a second wonder who the predator is here.
I reluctantly let him take my hand in his, and almost sigh out loud at the warmth of his fingers around mine. He gives me a little squeeze, and says: ‘Jaysus, you’re freezing!’
‘I’m aware,’ I reply, as he turns his attention back to the still alert dog. The creature is watching everything we do very closely, his eyes moving between the two of us.
‘Rest, Eejit. Down, boy,’ Ryan says, holding my hand up in his and displaying it. The dog reacts immediately, bounding forward towards us with alarming speed. I yelp, terrified at the blur of fur, and take a big unsteady step backwards. I lose my grip on Ryan’s hand, and fall, right on my ass in a deep puddle of icy water and mud.
I’m so shocked I can’t move for a moment, and I hear the children snickering away in the background. The dog runs over and licks my face, suddenly all affection, as the water seeps through my jeans. I stare into his blue eyes and then, on auto-pilot, I scratch his ears. The poor thing is as wet as I am, and I guess he didn’t mean any harm.
‘Up you come,’ says Ryan, holding out his hands to me again. I gaze up, see his bulky outline against the night sky, and feel as lost as I ever have in my life. None of this has worked out like I expected it to.
I hear myself mutter: ‘I think I’ve made a very big mistake. I shouldn’t be here. This is all wrong.’
He grabs hold of me and tugs me upright. I land in a dripping mess against him, and he smiles as he steadies me in his armsand says: ‘Give us a chance, darlin’. I’m sure it’ll all feel right again soon. We just need to get you out of your clothes, and everything will seem better.’
Is he flirting with me? I think. Is he actually flirting with me right now? Or is it just the accent? Every word that comes out of his mouth sounds like a combination of charm and challenge.
The others rush over towards us, and the dog starts playfully leaping around with the kids. One minute he’s a hellhound, the next he’s a goofball.
‘Put the wee dote down, Ryan,’ orders the older woman, ‘she’s had enough of a shock without you manhandling her!’
