Free The Crow of Connemara by Stephen Leigh Page B

it had evidently once had. He gestured toward a chair in front of his desk, where a laptop sat surrounded by small hillocks of files and paper, then ran the hand through short, graying hair. He didn’t smile, but his blue-gray eyes seemed sympathetic enough as he sat down on his own creaking office chair. Some of the anger she’d brought with her dissipated, seeing him. She’d expected someone harder and harsher, a bureaucrat composed of nothing but laws and regulations, and that didn’t seem to match Dunn.
    â€œSo, Miss Gallagher,” he said, and his voice was a warm baritone. “Are you the person designated to speak for the Oileánach?”
    â€œI can speak for the islanders, aye,” she told him. “I led them to Inishcorr.”
    He nodded. He ignored the laptop sitting on his desk, and instead opened a drawer and took out a notebook. He flipped it open, found a pencil amid the clutter on his desk, and scratched a few notes on the paper. Maeve found that she liked that. “Were you aware that you had no right to establish residence there?”
    â€œThe island’s been abandoned since the ’30s, Superintendent.”
    â€œThat may be, but the NPWS took title to the island in the 1990s.”
    Maeve shrugged. “’Tis nah a park, and none were living there when we came. We’ve been there for over five years now, and we’ve cleaned up all the tumbledown houses there and made it a better place. No NPWS person ever seemed to take an interest or visit the island a’tall until now.” She paused and gave him a tight-lipped frown. “Nah until some a’the superstitious and frightened people in Ballemór decided to complain about us.”
    Dunn’s lips twitched in what might have been an attempt at a smile. “That may be, but it doesn’t change the legalities, I’m afraid. The NPWS says they want you off the island; I’m obligated to carry out that request.” He put the pencil down on the notebook and leaned forward on his elbows. “Miss Gallagher, I went out there meself to serve that notice, and I’m not unsympathetic to what yeh’ve said. I saw the village and yer people, and yeh’ve taken a wrecked and wretched place and made it habitable again. I can appreciate that. But m’hands, as they say, are tied here.”
    He spread out his hands, palm up, as if to show her.
    â€œI see no ties, Superintendent, only a piece of meaningless paper.” She reached into her pocket and put the notice on his desk, unfolding it in front of him. He didn’t look at it, but at her as she rose from her chair. “Inishcorr is our home,” she told. “It’s where we
need
to be. I came to tell yeh that we will nah be leaving.”
    He blinked once. “They’ve given yeh thirty days,” he told her. “Look, it’s not for me to tell yeh this, but yeh can probably stretch that out some if yeh take this to court. Find yerselves a friendly barrister and see what he can do. He could probably buy you another few months. Maybe longer if he’s good at it.”
    Maeve was already shaking her head. “We’re not leaving, Superintendent. ’Tis where we need to be, as I told yeh. We care nah for yer laws and regulations and such. We’ll be staying, no matter what papers yeh show us.”
    â€œMiss Gallagher, I have my duties and responsibilities. If yeh won’t leave, I’ll be forced . . .”
    She held up a hand to stop him. “Yeh can do whatever yeh need do,” she told him. She pointed at the notice on his desk. “That may mean something to yeh, but it means nothing a’tall to us, and that’s all I wanted to tell yeh. I’m wishing yeh a good day, Superintendent.”
    With that, Maeve turned and left the office. She heard Dunn give an exasperated huff behind her, but he didn’t call out to stop her.
    She could feel the eyes of