The Oyster Catcher (20 page)

Chapter Thirty-five

Someone is in my pitch. It’s the snag man. He raises a set of long handled tongs at me by way of a greeting. I’m silently seething. There’s a small space in the shade on the other side of the lane. It’s not as nice as the pitch we should’ve had, but it’s the only space left. I’m pushed back practically into an alleyway, out of the way of passing footfall.

I carry the small table and two chairs from the van parked in a nearby school. Then I bring over the crates of oysters. I lay out the plastic glasses, the box of wine, and paper plates. All I have to do now is wait for customers. I pick up an oyster and try and remember how Sean taught me to open them. I don’t have to wait too long to practice. The first of my customers sit themselves down at the table and I serve them wine. Then with shaking hands I start to open their half a dozen oysters each. It’s slow. At first I can’t do it, can’t get the knife in, but I remember Sean’s arms around me and push the knife into the hinge firmly. Hey presto! I did it! After that the customers come in a steady stream all day and with each six I shuck I become more and more relaxed. I even accept a hot dog from the snag man by way of apology. It’s nearing the end of the day and my money bag is full. I’m serving oysters to a couple of American tourists from Seattle, when I hear a voice I recognise behind me and I freeze.

‘Henri, it’s all in hand. I have agreed to take all the native oysters and said they will only be sold in the restaurant. But I’ll have plenty of surplus and that’s what I’m offering you. You’re to deal with me, not him. I’m the broker. He’ll never know. Has some idea that he wants the oysters to stay local. Doesn’t want them to travel. But I’ll pay Sean a flat rate for them; tell him they’re for my restaurant, and then we’ll sell what I don’t need on to you and your customers out there. The profit margin will be fantastic.’ My stomach turns over.

I turn round quickly to see Nancy coming out of a low purple front door, off the main street. I look up at the sign. The Pearl! Of course, her new restaurant. She has no intention of putting Sean on the map as a supplier. She just wants the oysters and the profit for herself.

She spots me, quickly finishes her phone call, and slams the phone shut. She stops, and by the look of it, is gathering her thoughts. Then she comes towards me.

‘Fi. Not Sean’s usual pitch,’ she smiles smoothly. ‘Is he here?’ she looks around. I shake my head. I can’t speak I’m so incensed. ‘Good oysters aren’t they?’ she turns to the American couple who agree. ‘Come back when my restaurant opens, we’ll have native Galway oysters then, they’re really something special,’ she says charmingly.

‘So it seems. Sounds like you’re going to have more oysters than you can handle.’ The words are out of my mouth before I’ve even had a chance to think about how terrified of Nancy I am. But my blood is boiling. She’s sending the oysters to France. Just what Sean didn’t want and by the sounds of it, to add insult to injury, cutting him out of the deal as well.

Nancy pours herself a finger of white wine from the box, takes a sip, and gives a grimace, letting me know my choice of wine is a joke.

‘Whatever you think you may have heard, Sean will never believe the hired help over his partner. I’d think very carefully before blabbing about things you know nothing about. Without me, Sean doesn’t have a hope of selling any oysters. He’ll be doing market stalls for the rest of his life and that won’t pay for his licence.’ She knocks back the rest of the wine, turns and smiles at the American tourists,

‘Don’t forget to come back and visit me,’ she points to the restaurant sign and disappears into the crowds, pulling out her phone and putting it to her ear again.

Chapter Thirty-six

As I pull into the farm, I switch off the engine and just sit, letting the peace wash over me. It wasn’t that I didn’t enjoy being back in a city, the hustle and bustle. In fact, I did. But now I have to face the music.

I push the door open sheepishly, hoping Sean isn’t going to roar at me as soon as I get in. It’s all quiet.

The cottage is freezing. I open up the fire and put a match to a firelighter and some kindling. Then I throw in some turf and slide the kettle onto it. I pull the money bag out of my big waterproof jacket. I can’t put it off any longer. I push open Sean’s bedroom door.

He’s lying with his eyes shut. Peaceful. I step back out of the room and go to pull the door to.

‘English!’ He stops me in my tracks. ‘You came back.’

‘Of course I came back. I wasn’t stealing the van. I just went to do the market.’ He still looks very pale and isn’t moving. ‘Here,’ I set the bag of money down on the bed. There’s an untouched baguette by his bed and a bottle of coke. He sees me looking at them.

‘Nancy came up and brought me lunch.’

‘Right,’ I say backing out the room again. Nancy was checking up on her investment.

‘She wanted to agree the term for the oysters,’ he says weakly.

I have to tell him, tell him that she’s stitching him up. I take a deep breath and wonder where to start.

‘At least this way I can get Johnny Power off my back, eh?’ he says.

My courage runs out on me. How can I tell him what Nancy’s up to now? He’ll never believe me, I think hopelessly, and what good would it do? If Nancy pulls out, he’ll lose the farm to Johnny Power. Whatever I think of Nancy and her plan, I have to put up and shut up, for Sean’s sake.

‘I’ll unload the van and then I’ll make my way back to the town.’

‘You can’t do it on your own.’ He looks up at me.

‘Is there a choice?’ I say looking at him in bed. ‘Unless Nancy’s coming back to help?’

‘I just feel so useless!’ He slams his hands into the duvet. I don’t know how to make this better. He leans over for his drink and I pick it up and hand it to him. ‘Where are you staying?’ he asks.

‘In Rose’s chalet,’ I say, wondering why I’m leaving out the important bit.

‘With Dan,’ Sean fills in.

I hear the kettle coming to the boil. I dip out of the room and go back into the kitchen and make tea and coffee and find some more painkillers.

‘Here take these. I’ll finish up outside.’ I hand him the tablets.

‘Yes, Miss,’ he says, struggling to prop himself up and I can’t help but step in and help him. ‘I couldn’t find them,’ he says with an attempt at a smile. ‘Somebody keeps tidying up.’ He takes the tablets.

‘So how did it happen?’ I need to know, need to know if I’m responsible for this too. I put the glass of water back by his bed. He doesn’t look anywhere near ready to get up and out of bed and I have to get back to Dan, find out about the job. But as I’ve already left him waiting for nearly an entire day, I guess a little longer won’t hurt.

‘An accident, car crash.’

‘What, last night?’ I sit on the edge of the bed. He shakes his head.

‘Years ago. I’d just got out of prison. I was with my … fiancée.’

‘Nancy?’

He shakes his head again.

‘It was way before Nancy and I got together.’

‘Oh.’

‘I’d just got out of prison. We were out celebrating. Car hit us head on. I injured my back. It reoccurs every now and again.’ He looks into his lap.

And although I don’t really want to, I ask, ‘And your fiancée?’ He shakes his curls again. My eyes widen.

‘Died.’

I take a sharp intake of breath.

‘Of course the gossip mongers round here went to town. As if my uncle didn’t have enough to worry about.’

I move further on to the bed so my feet aren’t touching the ground. ‘Like what?’

He looks at me as if a piece of him has been unlocked and he’s right back there. ‘The waters around here had been declared unclean. There was a building firm, bought the land down the lane and were building that estate on the Murphys’ land. Their waste was going right into the waters.’

Finally I’m beginning to see. ‘So the Murphys sold to these builders who were poisoning the waters?’

Sean nods. He’s getting weary. The pain killers must be kicking in, maybe that was why he was finally talking so freely.

‘When the builders stopped the work, the waters cleaned up again; but people wouldn’t believe my uncle. The damage had been done. Local orders had been lost. A lot of people went out of business.’

‘And that’s why you sell yours abroad mostly?’ I swing my legs up onto the bed.

‘Means I don’t have  to worry about local gossip. And I had restaurant sales in Dublin.’

His eyes begin to droop.

‘But now the native oysters are back. That’ll show them … Show them the waters are the cleanest possible.’ I want to make this work for him.

‘Yup, it’s different this time. They’re staying on home turf.’

His eyes shut for a moment. He looks peaceful. Grace is lying by the bed. I want to tell him, but can’t. I mustn’t. I go to stand up.

‘Thank you,’ he says sleepily, his eyes open again, ‘for everything.’

‘Sean, about the party. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have …’

‘No, you shouldn’t. But I shouldn’t have left you here to face that thug. I’m sorry. Happy birthday, by the way.’ He rummages around on his bedside table and hands me a little black and gold packet. I open it up and the little pearl necklace drops out. I hold it in my hand and take a sharp little breath.

‘It’s beautiful.’

‘Fi, this isn’t easy, but will you come back and work for me? I can’t do it without you. You’re the only one who knows …’

‘I know, about the oysters,’ I nod and realise that’s not true any more.

‘No, you’re the only one who knows where everything is!’ And I think that’s the closest Sean Thornton has ever come to asking for help.

I go back outside to empty the van, feeling inexplicably happy. I look out to sea and think I could be there, America, Dan is offering me a ticket out of here. Or I could stay. It’s a no-brainer, but then I don’t think it’s my brain that’s making the decision. 

Chapter Thirty-seven

For the next week I rise early, feed the chickens, collect the eggs, retrieve Freddie from his early morning escape, make coffee and breakfast for Sean, and make brownies for Gerald. Then I begin the work with the oysters. Every morning I drive the tractor a little further into the water so I have to jump in a little deeper. Then I load the van and drive to one of the farmers’ markets in other nearby towns, setting up my pitch and serving up oysters. With Sean out of action and no hope of him working at the sailing school, it’s the only way.

Come the evening, after doing the farm chores, I deliver the brownies to Gerald and go home to prepare supper for Sean and myself. As the week draws to an end I have blisters on my blisters, my nails are broken and torn, my once-sleek bobbed hair is wavy and long and only contained by the hat I seem to wear all the time. But strangely I feel more alive than I think I ever have. It feels so … real. It’s just me, out in the fresh air, collecting the food that’s to be sold on to keep the farm running. I have never been so tired, but never so content either.

Most evenings it’s some kind of egg supper for Sean and I. The hens are laying every day, their days as battery hens before Sean rescued them a dim and distant past. It feels daft for me to sit in the living room eating alone while Sean eats in his bedroom, so I’ve taken to sitting on the end of his bed while he tells me about the oyster festivals he used to visit, the farms he’s worked on, and the restaurants he’s shucked in.

For the first few days he can’t sit up and I have to cut up his food and help him eat it. It’s hard for both of us to start with. Our embarrassment’s almost palpable, him having to rely on me and me at having to be so intimate with my boss, a man I’m finding more and more attractive by the day.

‘Nancy called up today,’ he tells me as the week draws to a close. He’s propped up on pillows and I’ve just got back from Moycullen market. There’s another shop-bought baguette beside his bed.

‘Oh really?’ I say, carrying a tray with mushroom soup and bread on it.

‘She didn’t stay long. You know Nancy. Can’t wait to get away from here, especially when I’m no use to her.’ He looks almost back to his old self.

‘She must be dying to get her hands on you once you’re well,’ I bite my lip. ‘I didn’t mean that to come out like that. I meant you can really get together. I mean, she must miss you.’ My tongue is tying itself in knots as I try hard not to tell him what I heard on the phone; how I think she’s shutting him out of the deal.

Sean shrugs.

‘It worked for us. Neither of us wanted anything more.’ He looks at the tray. The word ’wanted’, past tense, didn’t go unnoticed. Was I imagining it? He looks up at me and just for a moment we hold each other’s gaze. I reach down and put his tray in front of him and the back of his hand touches mine, setting off explosions deep inside me.

‘I put oysters in yours,’ I nod at his soup.

‘But not in yours?’ he smiles at me and I shake my head.

‘Let’s not get carried away.’ I smile back.

‘No, let’s not,’ he says quietly and my explosions fizzle out, hissing and spitting as they go. He picks up his spoon the wrong way up and goes to eat his soup, then rights it again quickly.

‘So how’s the festival shaping up?’

Now this is a surprise, Sean taking an interest in the festival.

‘Good, thank you. Still won’t change your mind about entering the shucking competition?’ I sip at my soup.

Sean shakes his head.

‘I just don’t think I’d be welcome.’

I want to argue with him but think better of it.

‘Margaret’s been doing great work on the publicity,’ I carry on brightly. ‘We’ve got a website and everything. She’s been out with me taking photographs of the customers eating oysters, and of the town. She wants to do a whole gallery of then and now pictures. In fact, she’s left Dan’s camera in the van. I’ll have to get it back to her.’

He says nothing for a moment and then puts his spoon down next to the empty bowl.

‘There’s a box,’ he says, ‘with photos in it. Would you bring it to me?’

I know exactly the one he means; the one over the coat rack that I knocked down on my first day.

I sit next to him on the bed and we go through the black-and-white pictures of his uncle and the colour ones of him. Underneath the pictures Sean tugs at something.

‘What is it?’

He pulls it out triumphantly.

‘My old shucking knife. My uncle bought it for me when I was eighteen.’ He held it in his hand, enjoying its feel, as if he were slipping on a pair of handmade shoes. I sigh.

‘What’s the matter?’ He puts down the knife.

‘It’s just … our festival isn’t going to be anything like this. This is what the locals wanted; they wanted it how it used to be.’

‘Here, have these. Tell Margaret she can have them for her website as long as I get them back,’ he hands me the pictures and puts the knife beside him on the table.

‘I will,’ I yawn and clear away the bowls.

‘You’re shattered. Get some rest. Take the camera and photos in the morning,’ he says.

And I decide to do just that. Tomorrow would be the last day of this spring tide which means tonight would be high tide. It’s calm and bright as I fetch the camera in from the van.

It’s dark when I hear the familiar sound of the outboard motor. I jump up. The moon is clear and bright. I can see the boat from my window! Sean is fast asleep. I look around and grab the camera from beside my bed. This time I’ll get them to stop.

I pick my way round the familiar little path round the bay, skirting the deep mud and tackling the little stone step ups with ease. I reach the end of the path where I watched the seals the other week and from where I can see the boat all too clearly.

‘Oi!’ I shout, throwing a stone into the water. This time when they look up I press the button on the camera.

Flash! Its bright light bounces off the water and their two surprised faces.

Flash! It goes again and I hear their voices low and arguing.

Splash! The bag of oysters is dropped back into the water.

Flash! And I hear the engine start up and the men swearing under their breath.

I can feel the huge grin on my face as I pick my way back over the rocks and along the path to the cottage and quietly slide back into my bed, the camera tucked safely into my wardrobe.

The following evening on my way back from Galway. I stop off at the pub for a drink. Dan is there propping up the bar and tapping on his laptop.

‘Hey, let me get you a drink,’ he says as soon as he sees me. He stands and goes to hug me but then takes a step back and pats my shoulder.

‘Eau de oyster seller no doubt,’ I laugh pulling up a bar stool. I spot Padraig and Seamus straight away, trying not to look in my direction. Padraig is actually pulling his hat down over his face with his finger.

‘How did you do today?’ Margaret asks.

‘Great. Loads of customers and I got my pitch back.’ I take the glass of wine she pours for me.

‘And Sean?’

‘Getting better every day. Up and about,’ I take a sip of the wine. ‘In fact he’s nearly ready to be out and about and then I can really bring him up to speed with everything that’s been going on while he’s been ill.’ I say loudly and take another sip. I couldn’t swerve what needed to be said any more. I’ve spent my life taking the path of least resistance and look where it got me. I take a deep breath and plaster on a smile.

‘Oh, just need to get your camera, it’s in the van. Took some lovely shots of the bay last night. Maybe you could use them on the website,’ I tell Margaret and slide off the stool and walk close to Padraig and Seamus and say in a low whisper, ‘And if you ever come near his oysters again, I’ll show him the photos I took of you last night. And let’s be honest, we’ve all heard about Sean Thornton’s reputation …’

I bring back the camera and put it on the bar.

‘Did you save any you wanted?’ Margaret reaches over and takes the camera.

‘I did.’ I give the pair another look, inside I’m shaking like a leaf. Then they nod back which I take to mean we understand each other and the whole business is over and done with. I take another really big swig of wine and inside I’m doing a happy dance.

‘All ready for the Pearl Queen Party on Friday?’ Margaret squeals and claps her hands together.

‘Yes. Can’t wait. Many entrants?’ I start to relax.

‘Uh huh,’ she says. ‘19, including me.’

‘Are you allowed to enter?’ I think out loud.

‘Yes, of course. As long as I’m not judging it as well,’ she assures me. ‘Dan’s a judge, so’s Patsy, and the editor from the
Galway Gazette
.

‘You entering?’ Dan shuts down his computer and turns to me.

‘Oh yes, do!’ Margaret says putting glasses back on the shelf. ‘It’ll be great craic! I could do your make-up again,’ she starts getting even more excited.

I hold up my hand.

‘No, I won’t be entering. But I’m happy to help out with anything that needs doing on the night,’ I say and wonder what on earth I’m going to wear. Not one of Margaret’s creations again. They look great on Margaret but not on me.

Freda, John Joe, and Maire come into the pub. Seeing Maire gives me an idea. Maybe I do know what to wear after all.

‘OK, well maybe I’ll get you to mop my brow or something like that,’ Dan jokes. ‘Say, how’s Sean getting on up there?’ he asks with genuine concern, which is good of him considering how I stood him up on that day I went to market and turned down his job offer.

‘Good thanks. On the mend. Maybe I could persuade him out next weekend,’ I sip the drink.

‘Yes,’ he nods. ‘And you’re managing everything at the farm? No other oyster problems?’ he asks and I presume he’s talking about how I ran them over in those first few weeks; unless he means Seamus and Padraig.

‘No, no problems at all,’ I beam proudly.

‘Good, good. Y’know, we’d still make a good team you and me. I still haven’t given up on you and me working together y’know. But maybe there’s a better way …’ He gives me a smile and tips up his pint. His eyes are glinting.

‘What do mean?’ I’m intrigued.

‘Just saying that I’m working on a business plan and you might be just the person to help me with it. In fact it was you that gave me the idea.’

‘Really?’ I can’t think that I could’ve come up with anything useful.

‘I’ll know by the festival. Could be just right for both of us,’ he says and I can’t help feeling curious.