The Oyster Catcher (23 page)

Chapter Forty-one

When I reach the chalet in Rose’s garden I knock loudly.

Dan opens the door looking surprised. I dive straight in.

‘Dan, hi, look about the job, the one you were telling me about the other week. I know it’s a long shot, but I was wondering if there was any chance it was still free?’

He stares at me blankly. I try to slow down a bit.

‘Dan, I’ve come about the job. Have you found someone, in Boston? If not, I’m your woman. I can leave now,’ I gabble. His face lights up.

‘This could be perfect!’ he exclaims. Then his face drops to a frown again. ‘What about you and Sean? I thought you were still working with him.’

‘I just think it’s time I moved on.’ I muster a smile from somewhere but find I’m swinging my arms to and fro nervously and knock over a lamp which we both try and catch.

‘You think we can work together?’ Dan asks.

‘Absolutely!’ I say, neither of us letting go of the lamp. ‘I think we’d make a great team …’

He looks at me.

‘There’s just one thing,’ he says cautiously. ‘I may have misled you, given you mixed signals. I may have suggested there was more on offer than a job.’

‘Oh no, I  …’ The elephant in the room just got bigger.

‘But the thing is, I’m sort of … involved with someone,’ he says slowly.

I hold my hands up. I’ve heard enough.

‘Dan. I want a job. One as far away from here as possible. I want to work for you, I definitely don’t want to sleep with you,’ I say.

‘That’s what you said before, remember?’ A voice cuts across us and then she appears from the bedroom wearing nothing but one of Dan’s T-shirts.

‘Oh my God! Margaret!’

Margaret can’t help but grin from ear to ear as Dan pulls her to him and kisses the top her head.

‘Margaret, what I did was unforgivable. And if it’s any consolation I am hurting now more than I ever thought possible. I was a fool to myself and to you.’

‘Well he was pretty fanciable.’ Margaret looks up at Dan. ‘But I think you did me a favour.’ She breaks into a broad smile and I hug her and then him.

‘So, about the job?’ Dan breaks up the hug. ‘It’s yours if you want it. I still have more business here in Ireland,’ he looks at Margaret. ‘I can’t leave yet. So it would be great to know the office is in safe hands. You can leave straight away?’

I nod, more than I need to.

‘But what about the festival?’ Margaret suddenly looks horrified. ‘It’s tomorrow!’

‘It’s all organised. I’d only be doing coat duty and I just don’t think I can watch the happy couple any more.’

Margaret’s eyes fill up and she hugs me.

‘I have to go,’ I say but choke. I feel her nod as we hug again. She understands.

‘You are the best friend I have ever had,’ I tell her as the tears roll and roll down my cheeks.

‘Ditto,’ she says.

Back at the farm, Sean is just closing up the shed. The oyster bags are all laid out on the mended trestle tables, which I destroyed all those months ago. They’re ready for tomorrow. Down the bay the dark clouds are rolling in. Even Grace looks like she’s lost a chicken leg and found a wishbone. She’s lying with her head between her paws, like she knows everything is about to change.

‘High tide tonight,’ Sean says.

‘Hadn’t you better go and get ready. Nancy’ll be wondering where you are. It’s your engagement party after all.’

‘Fi, about that …’ he says.

‘I think we’ve said all that needs to be said. This place means the world to you. You have to hang on to it and Nancy’s your best bet for that.’ I say and a few more tears rolls down my cheeks. I swipe them away.

‘I’m leaving, Sean. It’s time for me to move on. I’ve paid my debt.’ Still the tears roll. He steps closer to me.

‘You could stay. If this goes well tomorrow and we sell the oysters, there’s plenty of work for you, you don’t have to go.’

‘I think we both know that I do.’ I wipe away the tears and try not to sniff. ’Just … watch yourself. Look after you. Don’t get hurt …  trying to hang on to to something you love.’ He frowns. He looks like he’s going to say something. But I don’t want to hear it.

‘You have to go,’ I hurry him along.

‘Look, let’s sleep on it. We can work it out.  See you tomorrow, yeah?’ he says.

‘Yeah,’ I say, knowing that I won’t. There’s nothing else to talk about. I’ll be gone by dawn, it’s all arranged. David, the postman who doubles up as the hackney driver, is picking me up. My flight’s booked. This time tomorrow, while the oysters are being served, I’ll be on my way to my new life in the States.

‘Are you going to the festival? The shucking competition?’ I ask.

‘No, I don’t feel part of this place. Maybe I never will. But at least now I can show them my uncle was right, these waters are clean. The cleanest. We have the oysters to show for it.’ He breathes in. Nancy was right. This place means everything to him and he’d never risk that.

‘Right, see you tomorrow.’

The rain hits my window and slides down it like tears. I pull out a large black bag. This takes me right back to when I was growing up. My mum would come home, produce a roll of value bin bags, and I knew we were on the move again. At least this time I know where I’m going, well, on paper anyway. Dan has organised an apartment for me. Mary Jo is meeting me at the airport and taking me out to dinner. Then there’s a week’s hand-over and my new life will begin. It’s everything I could want, an office job dealing with all Dan’s engagements, his public appearances, his book publications, and all his media work. I’ll be doing what I do best, working behind the scenes. It’s what I did for Brian and I know I can do it for Dan. I fold the work clothes I’ve lived in; the cut-off jeans that became shorts, the joggers Sean found out for me and the rest of the eclectic mix of clothes I’ve gathered since I’ve been here. I fold away the wedding dress that Maire altered. That I doubt I’ll wear again.

Once I get to Boston Dan’s going to give me an advance to help get me settled. I’ll go shopping and buy some work clothes. I wonder what kind of shops there will be? Big department stores, all bright lights and fragrance in the air. I try and smile to myself, it’s a long way from Dooleybridge, Gerald’s café, and Rose’s petrol station. Back to being in a city again where everything is to hand; shops, theatres, cinemas and cafés. The wind is picking up outside. I hope it doesn’t rain too much and make the lane difficult to get down. I’ll walk down to the end of it to get the hackney, I decide. He’s due at six tomorrow morning. I doubt I’ll sleep at all tonight.

The wind outside is picking up and I go to the front door to check how bad it is. Grace comes with me as she usually does. I’m going to miss her so much. Maybe one day, when I’m settled, I’ll be able to have a house and a dog of my own. I rub her head as I look at the waves starting to roll in.

I go back into the cottage, stoke the little pot-bellied stove with turf. There have been so many things I’ve done that I never thought I’d do, the sailing, the market stalls, the oyster eating. The butterflies rush in and do their crazy dance in my stomach again. I touch the pearl around my neck and undo the necklace. I put it on the table and head to bed.

I’m woken by a crash and a whoosh. I think someone’s breaking into the house. Grace is howling. My mouth goes dry. Coming round I realise it’s not the plane crash I was dreaming about, there’s a storm outside, doing its worst. The one that was due to miss us no doubt! I don’t know what the time is; there’s been a power cut. I grab a torch and grapple for my clothes.

‘Shh, Grace, it’s OK,’ I tell her, although my heart’s still racing. I pull on the hat and waterproofs that I hadn’t planned on wearing again. I open the door a little and it flies open. I look at my mobile phone hopelessly. Why should I think there’s going to be any signal here tonight? But it does tell me the time; ten past twelve. I shove it back in my pocket. Sean and Nancy’s party will be in full swing. Then there’s a huge gust and I clutch my hands over my mouth as I watch a mesh bag full of the oysters, Sean’s native oysters, get ripped from its trestle table; the elasticated ropes must have given up. It flies across the bay and lands some way away on the rocks.

I shake my head and then watch the next and then the next bag fly off its mooring. ‘No, no, no!’ I scream out loud. ‘Noooooooo!’ My face is screwed up. My stomach is in knots. ‘Please no more …’

What if the storm hasn’t even reached Galway and Sean is blissfully unaware of what’s going on? Everything he cares about is being trashed right in front of my eyes. I turn back to the cottage. I’d like to think this isn’t my problem any more, that I could just walk away. I get as far as the house when I hear more bags ripping away from their tables and splashing through the water.

Oh God! All that work, for nothing. I can’t let this happen again. I’ve run away from everything that has gone wrong in my life, just like my Mum. I don’t want to be like her. I can’t do it this time. I run round to the sheds, pull back the big doors, and grab a life jacket. I put it on and take a huge breath and head towards the jetty where the boat is moored.

But it’s no use, the storm’s too rough. I’ll be tossed out of the boat as soon as I sit in it. I wait and watch for the next two hours, my fingers in my mouth, watching as each bag flies in a different direction, making a mental note of where they’ve gone. When the storm begins to recede I run back down to the boat. It’s still rough but I untie the first rope and then the second. The boat sways violently in the wind. I can’t get in. I jump down into the chest high water. I bounce and jump but can’t make it into the boat. My arms don’t have the strength. I bounce and jump again. The boat begins to move. Oh God, I’ll lose the boat as well at this rate. I give an almighty jump this time and tumble head first into it rolling onto my back.

I’ve done it before, I can do it again, I tell myself as the Greek holiday comes flooding back. I push it to one side. I have let my fear of ‘what if’ hold me back for too long. What if I don’t do anything! Now that will be a regret.

I grab hold of the rudder. Grace is watching from the shore. I can see the green glints in her eyes as I swing the torch round and suddenly the boat takes off at a lick.

‘Argh!’ I scream and I tumble backwards. I can see the corner of an oyster bag in my torch light, poking up in the water. I steer the boat towards it and scoop it up dripping with water and seaweed.

‘One!’ I shout at Grace who barks back. A wave crashes against the boat knocking me sideways. I quickly put the bag in the boat and grab the rudder. I guide the boat around the bay. Slowly it’s starting to get light. At one point I have to put down the anchor and summoning all my courage, jump out of the boat again. It is up to my chest and I climb up the rocks and grab another two bags. I can see some other bags have blown into the bay next door. I get back in the boat and head further out. The wind fills the sail and it takes all my strength to hold it and guide it round the bay.

In the restaurant the party was in full swing. It was late, well into the early hours of the morning, but  no one seemed to care. Sean sighed. A long buffet table was constantly being reloaded and glasses of champagne topped up. There were purple and silver balloons filled with helium on the tables and soft jazz music filled the air, taking the edge off the forced laughter. Waitresses walked around offering bottles or trays of bite-sized delights. But none of it tasted of anything to Sean. The only good thing was that Jean Francois and Monique, Nancy’s parents were there. In fact they were about the only people Sean recognised apart from Henri, that is. Sean had never liked Henri and had given him a wide berth all night. As had Nancy, surprisingly, until now.

Jean Francois, Monique, and Sean had been sitting at a table all night, trying to discuss the worries of the French oyster farmers and the good news about the native oysters.

‘Your uncle would be so proud of you,’ Jean Francois told him, putting his hand over Sean’s. ‘We are proud of you.’ Monique nodded in agreement. ‘You are like family to us.’

The band had slowed things down and people were getting up to dance together, some propping each other up. Henri and Nancy seemed to gravitate towards each other, Sean noticed, as did Jean Francois and Monique.

‘Nancy is a very determined lady,’ Jean Francois said. ‘She is driven and knows what she wants. She can’t bear the thought of being poor again, like she was growing up. We did our best, but oyster farmers like us, we weren’t rich. But I was in here,’ he banged his fist to his heart. Monique nodded in agreement. ‘My heart was full because I loved what I did and I loved my family.’ He put his arm around Monique who blushed and smiled. It is your heart that matters in life. Make sure it is always full.’

Every single one of Jean Francois’s words made sense to Sean. He looked at Nancy.

Henri and Nancy heads seemed to be getting closer and closer as they held one hand and wrapped the other around each other’s waists. Sean wondered if Nancy remembered he was there at all. Jean Francois and Monique seemed embarrassed. Sean felt for them. They were such good people. Strangely he didn’t feel much himself, just an overwhelming desire for it to be over.

Without Nancy, Sean would lose his farm, but without Fi his heart would be empty. He remembered her words: ‘Watch yourself, don’t get hurt.’ He looked at Nancy again.

‘I think I may have be about to lose something I love,’ he said out loud to Jean Francois. Jean Francois looked concerned. ‘Nancy is a wonderful woman,’ he said, ‘but I can’t marry her.’ Sean was dying inside thinking about the pain he must be causing this dear couple. But suddenly Jean Francois was smiling.

‘You will always be family to us, whether you and Nancy are married or not. Let me give you some words of advice. If you find someone you love, hold on to her very tight. Nothing is more important than love.’ Jean Francois said and Monique nodded, looking back at Nancy and Henri.

‘They have been in love since they were eight. They just too scared to admit it yet. Both too in love with business to have room for love in their lives. Don’t be scared of love Sean. It’s a gift.’ Monique held her husband’s hand.