I fumed,as I speed-walked towards them. Was therenothingmy mother wouldn’t do? I’d told her to keep her nose out. And there she was, eyes gleaming. She had scented something. A protest. Her favourite thing in the world. A couple of picnic chairs had been set out and there was a small blue gas stove where a kettle was boiling away. They looked like they were settling in for the long haul.
Hands on myhips, I stood in front of them, as they looked at me expectantly, pleasantly even.
‘What the hell do you think you are doing?’ I hissed at Nora. ‘This is just another of your protests… whales, salmon, nuclear weapons. All your various bandwagons. And now this! A tiny plot of land which is of no value to anyone. Except us. We might be able to get something from this. Something for the school.How could you? How could you embarrass me like this?’
She smiled at me. ‘Tabitha,’ she said, patiently. ‘It’s not personal. But we have a moral obligation to protest.’
‘Who’s we?’
‘Us.’ She nodded at the group. ‘The Dalkey Wildlife Defenders.’
They all nodded, one or two gave me a little wave.
‘Nellie and I played in the Copse as children and this is a matter we can’t let go. It’s not againstyou and your decisions. It’s about trees being in peril and when they are, we have to act. It’s what we do.’ She smiled at me as though that was all that needed to be said, and I would walk away fully accepting her need to protest.
Oh no. Oh no, she wouldn’t do this to me. She had spent her life, swanning about saving the habitats of geese or snails in sand dunes or on that bloody peace camp.She wasn’t going to do this here. And now. With me.
‘Mum, there is no peril,’ I insisted, vaguely considering the alternative nostril breathing technique that Clodagh had demonstrated to keep calm. ‘We are going to have a say in how the land is used, going forwards. I have suggested a community centre and they will take our considerations fully into the plans.’
Nora just looked at me. ‘That’swhat they all say,’ she said, turning to the older, bearded man. ‘Don’t they, Arthur?’
He nodded. ‘We don’t tend to believe the word of developers,’ he said, politely. ‘As a rule. Telling the truth is not in their interests.’
‘Now, please. All of you. Go home. There is nothing to protest about and you are all, frankly, wasting your time.’
‘Kettle’s boiled!’ said a voice behind Nora. All thistime, Nellie had been blithely making a pot of tea in an old enamel teapot. ‘Hello Tabitha,’ she said cheerily as if this was nothing more than an enjoyable picnic. ‘Join us for a brew? I’ve got some nice fruit cake.’
The older man, Arthur, cleared his throat and stepped forward. ‘With respect, Ms Thomas, we are going to protest until the land remains under the protectorate of the school. Asit has, for the last 300 years. And I hope you don’t mind,’ he went on politely, ‘we’re going to exercise our democratic right to protest. We won’t be in your way, but we’ll just be here until we can be sure that the safety and future of Dalkey greenery is assured. One felled tree is one too many.’
From the yard, I heard the bell go for break time and the immediate hysteria of children’s voicesracing out into the sunshine.
‘Mum…’ I said, fixing her with my beadiest eye. ‘Go home.’
‘We are here in support of the trees and wildlife.’ Her fellow protestors all nodded in agreement. ‘Nature has no voice that we can hear, so the Dalkey Wildlife Defenders will remain here until the Copse is safe from the developers. Now, let me introduce you to everyone. You know Nellie.’ Nellie waved hertin cup at me. ‘And this is Arthur. A veteran of these protests, just like me and Nellie.’
‘Arthur Fitzgerald,’ he said, holding out his hand, which I had no choice but to take. ‘Doctor of Geology. University College Dublin. Retired. But not retired activist… this is something you never retire from.’
‘The fire never goes out,’ agreed Nora. ‘And this is Robbo Cunningham.’ She gestured towardsthe dreadlocked man who nimbly stepped over the kettle on the gas stove to shake my hand.
‘Pleased to meet you,’ he said, politely. ‘I may not have been at Mizen Head or Mullaghmore, but I like to think I play my part in the good fight. Fracking is my thing but anything environmental, really.’
‘And last,’ said Nora, ‘but not least is Leaf.’
‘Just Leaf,’ said the young woman in the man’s cardigan,shaking my hand. ‘I don’t do surnames. Leaf is not my given name, though,’ she explained. ‘That’s Sinead. I think I’m more a Leaf than a Sinead, don’t you? I never felt right being Sinead, you know, like I was born with the wrong name. But as soon as I decided I was a Leaf, I felt totally different about myself. Like I had foundme.’
Arthur had piped up and we all turned to listen. ‘I rememberwhen we were at Mullaghmore, the ancient stones of the Burren in the county of Clare,’ he said. ‘Nora, you were there, and Nellie. Well, it was over twenty years ago now and the council wanted to build a huge coach park right beside the stones. Well, that couldn’t be right, not at all. And as they wouldn’t give in or come to some agreement after the letters I wrote… well, we had to dig in.’ He gavea chuckle. ‘Well, we didn’t actually dig in. That’s what the council wanted to do. The digging was what we wanted to avoid. Isn’t that right, Nora?’
‘How could I forget, Arthur? You facing down the bulldozer. Nellie sitting on top of the stones.’
Nellie nodded happily. ‘I nearly fell off,’ she said. ‘Several times. But there was no way that bulldozer was coming anywhere near us. We were youngerthen...’
‘Okay,’ I said, keen to put an end to this trip down memory lane and get back to the matter at hand, i.e., moving the protestors on. ‘What if we ran a school-wide project on the trees and wildlife as a learning experience for the children? I just know how much they would gain from that. We will also promise to plant more trees on the school grounds. Recreate the Copse. And anyway, wemay not even sell it. The board might not pass it. So, why don’t you go home and I will keep you all fully informed about the situation.’ I looked at them. ‘Okay?’
But no one seemed to be listening particularly. Arthur was nodding away pleasantly. Nora was fiddling with her coat buttons. Nellie was digging through her handbag on the ground next to her. Leaf was stretching her neck out and itwas only Robbo who seemed to paying any real attention.
‘We’re not going,’ he said. ‘I’m so sorry, Ms Thomas. We don’t want to inconvenience you or the children. But we can’t go.’
‘Why not?’
