Ashes to Ashes
Chapter Two
"I've bad news, Grainne." Darragh had dreaded telling his wife. The young Mrs Callaghan turned and faced her husband, raising her eyebrows.
"What's happened?" she asked, resigned.
"I have to do something on Monday." Grainne looked shocked, and then she groaned.
"Oh, Darragh! Really?"
"I'm afraid so."
"But the kids are so excited!"
"I know."
"You can’t kill someone on Christmas Day!"
"I don't want to. But he's making me." Darragh frowned, still angry from the earlier events.
"Please, Darragh, don't!"
"I have to, Grainne!"
"Miceál will be so upset!" Miceál was the couple's eldest child, who was three. Darragh and Grainne had been married since they were sixteen, and Miceál had come along when they'd just turned seventeen.
"I feel awful enough already, thanks!" Darragh snapped.
"All right, all right!" Grainne said, glaring at her husband.
"Sorry." Darragh muttered.
"Well, what time will you be back?"
"I don't know. Evening."
"Darragh!"
"Well, what do you want me to do?" Darragh raised his voice. "Just don't tell the kids it's on Monday. We'll have it on Tuesday." Grainne rolled her eyes.
"I don't think our Miceál has has a Christmas on the 25th since the day he was born!"
"He's only three, Grainne!"
"That's not the point." Grainne was about to launch into a lecture, but was interrupted by a shout from their three-year-old.
"UNCLE OISIN!" Darragh laughed and went to get the door as the bell went, picking up his young son as he went.
"How's Grainne been?" Oisin asked as Darragh opened the door to him. Darragh put his finger to his lips.
"Shh," he said softly. "The kids don’t know yet." Miceál looked at his father curiously.
"What?" he asked.
"Nothing, Miceál. Big guy stuff, eh?"
"I'm a big guy!"
"Not quite big enough, sonny." Darragh laughed, placing his son back down on the floor. He ran into the living room, where all of his toys were still scattered on the floor.
"She's not happy, is she?" Oisin asked softly.
"No. I'm not either, mind."
"So what's the plan?"
"We're telling the kids that Santa's coming Monday night, and we're going to have Christmas on Tuesday." Darragh said. "Again, we're putting it forward. I'm fed up."
"You know that Diarmuid can give you Hell if he wants to." Oisin pulled a face. "He makes me sick sometimes."
"You're not as nuetral as you like to make out, eh, Oisin?" Darragh smiled and laughed at his best friend.
"Well. He's forever asking this unit to do things he would never do himself. He'll be at home with his feet up on Christmas morning, I bet."
"It feels so wrong shooting someone on Christmas Day." Darragh ran his hand through his hair and groaned. "So wrong. It's like there's a limit. And that crosses it."
"What's happened?" she asked, resigned.
"I have to do something on Monday." Grainne looked shocked, and then she groaned.
"Oh, Darragh! Really?"
"I'm afraid so."
"But the kids are so excited!"
"I know."
"You can’t kill someone on Christmas Day!"
"I don't want to. But he's making me." Darragh frowned, still angry from the earlier events.
"Please, Darragh, don't!"
"I have to, Grainne!"
"Miceál will be so upset!" Miceál was the couple's eldest child, who was three. Darragh and Grainne had been married since they were sixteen, and Miceál had come along when they'd just turned seventeen.
"I feel awful enough already, thanks!" Darragh snapped.
"All right, all right!" Grainne said, glaring at her husband.
"Sorry." Darragh muttered.
"Well, what time will you be back?"
"I don't know. Evening."
"Darragh!"
"Well, what do you want me to do?" Darragh raised his voice. "Just don't tell the kids it's on Monday. We'll have it on Tuesday." Grainne rolled her eyes.
"I don't think our Miceál has has a Christmas on the 25th since the day he was born!"
"He's only three, Grainne!"
"That's not the point." Grainne was about to launch into a lecture, but was interrupted by a shout from their three-year-old.
"UNCLE OISIN!" Darragh laughed and went to get the door as the bell went, picking up his young son as he went.
"How's Grainne been?" Oisin asked as Darragh opened the door to him. Darragh put his finger to his lips.
"Shh," he said softly. "The kids don’t know yet." Miceál looked at his father curiously.
"What?" he asked.
"Nothing, Miceál. Big guy stuff, eh?"
"I'm a big guy!"
"Not quite big enough, sonny." Darragh laughed, placing his son back down on the floor. He ran into the living room, where all of his toys were still scattered on the floor.
"She's not happy, is she?" Oisin asked softly.
"No. I'm not either, mind."
"So what's the plan?"
"We're telling the kids that Santa's coming Monday night, and we're going to have Christmas on Tuesday." Darragh said. "Again, we're putting it forward. I'm fed up."
"You know that Diarmuid can give you Hell if he wants to." Oisin pulled a face. "He makes me sick sometimes."
"You're not as nuetral as you like to make out, eh, Oisin?" Darragh smiled and laughed at his best friend.
"Well. He's forever asking this unit to do things he would never do himself. He'll be at home with his feet up on Christmas morning, I bet."
"It feels so wrong shooting someone on Christmas Day." Darragh ran his hand through his hair and groaned. "So wrong. It's like there's a limit. And that crosses it."