The Oyster Catcher (10 page)

‘For ever, I think,’ Margaret replies flatly. ‘I remember the day he turned up here, out of the blue … after he’d been, y’know.’

‘Hello again, ladies,’ Seamus and Padraig stop beside us. The squeaking on the bike Seamus is pushing stops. He touches the brim of his hat. I try to hide the bottle behind my leg but don’t think I manage it.

‘Making a night of it are we?’ Padraig laughs.

Just then a black BMW drives past with a blast of its horn.

‘It’s him isn’t it, going out with her? Staying in town no doubt at some swanky hotel,’ Margaret grabs the bottle and swigs deeply.

‘Her place.’ I’ve given her all the facts now.

Seamus touches his hat again. ‘Should be a nice night.’ He nods at the reddening sky. ‘Enjoy your evening.’ The bike starts up its squeak again. Padraig walks beside him, talking in a low voice.

‘Where will you go?’ Margaret asks while staring straight out to sea.

‘Probably to my mum’s in Malta.’

‘You don’t sound keen.’

‘I’m not. She left me to my own devices when I was 15 and hasn’t really bothered with me since. I can’t see her welcoming me with open arms. And to be honest, I don’t think I could take all the ‘I told you so’ looks.’

‘I told you so? What about?’

I sigh and instead of drinking from the bottle rest it down on the bench and open the Doritos instead. I take one out and bite it so the pieces shatter everywhere. I sigh again.

‘She told me my marriage wouldn’t last. I’d never make him happy.’ It’s my turn to look out to sea.

‘And did it?’ Margaret sticks her hand into the big bag and grabs a handful, tossing them into her mouth from her cupped hand.

‘No. The ink wasn’t even dry on the register when he left me.’

Margaret’s crunching faster and faster, her eyes fixed on me. I’ll probably be the talk of the town by this evening but what does it matter now – I’ll be gone tomorrow.

‘We said “I do”, then he realised he couldn’t.’

‘Not one of the bridesmaids?’ Margaret’s still throwing Doritos at her mouth at superfast speed.

‘The best man,’ I say flatly.

Margaret nearly chokes.

‘I thought it was the belly-dancing outfit he’d found in my going away bag at first.’

‘Belly-dancing outfit?!’ Margaret bursts out, spraying Doritos. And, taking me quite by surprise, I find I laugh too.

‘Don’t!’ I say waving my hand around, enjoying the sense of freedom the laughter’s giving me. ‘Betty and Kimberly’s idea of a honeymoon present!’ I say through gasps for air. The thought of Brian’s face if I’d actually put it on is making me laugh even more. ‘Something to spice up our sex life,’ they said. ‘Well, after years of doing it in the dark on a Saturday night I thought it might actually help. But now I think about it …’ Laughter washes over me again and I’m not sure if I should feel bad for laughing or just realise how ridiculous it all was.

‘So the sex was shite then?’ Margaret throws more crisps at her mouth, barely chewing them. I’ve hardly had anything to drink but my tongue seems to have taken on a life of its own.

‘His idea of foreplay was separate showers. He found the outfit the night before the wedding, when we were packing. I saw the colour drain from his face. I wasn’t really going to wear it. It was just a bit of fun. But it wasn’t that. Now I think about it, I can remember exactly when the lights went out in his eyes.’

‘What?’

‘Well, when I first met Brian I was doing the sandwich round from Betty’s Buns, as it was then. I had to deliver the sandwiches to the radio station next door. Brian’s studio was my last stop. When I got there his assistant had let him down, the girl who did the phones. It was a Saturday afternoon sports phone-in. Well, I helped out. I could answer phones. His assistant never came back and I helped out every Saturday after working in Betty’s. By way of a thank you he took me to the staff Christmas party. It was fancy dress. I wasn’t keen but he convinced me. He went as Becks and I went as Posh in a pair of sunglasses and some of Kimberly’s high heels. D’you know, for the first time in my life I actually felt like I was somebody.’ I sipped at the wine bottle. ‘After that we just slipped into being a couple. I’d always hated all that dating malarkey, far too shy. This just became habit. I went out with him to works dos and in time he moved into my flat above Betty’s because it was closer to the radio station and he, well, he planned our lives. We saved for the next two years for a deposit for a flat, a new one, the show home. Two years later we would get married. And the following year …’ I swallow ‘we’d start a family,’ I say quietly, suddenly feeling the need to blink quite a lot. Margaret grabs the bottle and swigs before handing it back.

‘So what went wrong?’

‘By the looks of it he was just hiding from who he really was, using me. It was all for show … a bit like the flat,’ I laugh but it’s hollow. ‘Then when I suggested we throw the life plan out of the window and start trying for children straight away, well, I guess that’s when he realised he couldn’t do it any more.’

‘So where did the best man come from?’

‘We went on holiday to Greece, a sailing holiday. My idea, a bad one. Anyway, to cut a long story short we met up with some other people our age. There was one particular friend, Adrian. He and Brian got on really well. We stayed in touch for a while but lost contact when everyone started getting married and having kids. But when we finally got engaged Brian went Facebook mad and got back in touch. Looks like he couldn’t hide from his real feelings any more.’

‘God, no wonder you went loopy,’ Margaret slugged again.

‘I didn’t go loopy! I just remember seeing all those faces staring at me and I couldn’t bear it. So I just ran. The camper van had been delivered for us to leave the reception and go on honeymoon, so I just jumped in it and drove. I don’t know what I was thinking. I just followed what the satnav told me to do but I went wrong. Ended up here. And the camper van company thought I’d stolen it.’

‘Jeez, makes my shit look like a breeze,’ Margaret says holding the empty Doritos bag. I feel chilly. ‘Are you good for money then?’

I push my hand into my pocket.

‘I’ve got this,’ I show her the diamond engagement ring.

‘For feck’s sake, that’s not a stone, it’s a rock!’ Margaret takes the ring from me and holds it up. But it doesn’t shine. Maybe it’s because I’ve been wearing it so long, or maybe it’s a reflection of life, it’s lost its shine.

‘Time I was off.’ I stand up. ‘Thanks for the laughs.’ Tomorrow’s going to be a new beginning. I feel ready to move on. I mustn’t beat myself up about this any more.

‘I’m sorry you’re going,’ she smiles up at me. ‘We could’ve had fun.’

‘By the way Margaret, what did you mean earlier, when you said about Sean, when he first came here, after he’d been …?’

‘Released. From prison. Didn’t you know?’ Looks like Margaret thought I should have all the facts too.

Chapter Nineteen

Back at the farm it’s all quiet. The hens and geese have taken themselves off to bed and all I have to do is close their doors for one last time. Freddie and Mercury are safely locked in their field. I rub their muzzles and foreheads and give them an extra handful of pony nuts each.

‘Be good for your master, boys,’ I tell them. ‘Freddie, as much as you love her, you can’t have her, she belongs to someone else,’ I say referring, to the little white donkey down the road. Why then do I suddenly think about Sean? I push the thought aside. ‘Mercury, keep an eye on him for me.’ I rub his forehead and long ears then turn back to the cottage with Grace gambolling at my side.

The water’s like a mill pond tonight. The drizzle has stopped and there’s another rainbow across the bay as the sun attempts to wave goodbye; even though we were barely acquainted. I’ve hardly stood still when a gang of midges get me in their sights and set me as their new destination. I wave at them madly and run into the cottage, rubbing my hair. I shan’t miss them!

I throw turf onto the fire and pull out some bread and cheese. I need to think about tomorrow. It’s not like I’ve got a lot to pack, but I need to get into Galway, find a pawn shop, sell the rings, and then find an internet café. Once I’ve got the money from the rings I could buy a ticket anywhere. It doesn’t have to be Malta. So where do I fancy?

I go through Sean’s CDs, which are now all in alphabetical order. I put on some music, pour a glass of wine, and find a pad and pen from the now tidy desk. The old whiskey bottle has become a candle holder on the table. I light it. The room’s heating up nicely. Grace is in her bed by the fire. The cottage has come to feel like home, far more than the modern flat that Brian and I shared. I put the pad and pen on the table and sit down. I chew the end of my pen, sip my wine, eat my bread and cheese. Still my pad is empty. With the world as my oyster I have no idea where to go.

I’m still staring into the distance as it gets dark. The moonlight is throwing its long, silver path down the bay.

I blow out the candle and decide to have an early night. I’m sure the answers will come to me after a good night’s sleep.

The darkness is looking in at me from outside as I clean my teeth and wash my face. Grace follows me into the bedroom and lies down on the little mat beside my bed.

‘Good night, Grace. Thank you for being such a good friend.’

I feel a lump in my throat and turn out the light and pull the covers round me, breathing in the smell of turf smoke and washing powder for the last time.

I can’t believe it! I did everything to make sure no midges followed me in. The buzzing noise is now keeping me awake and I’m going to have to get out of bed and swat it.

‘Buzz.’ I pull the covers over my head in the hope it will just leave me alone.

‘Buzzzz.’ But it seems to be getting louder.

‘Buzzzzzzz.’ Either there’s a house party of midges in my room or … I listen. Grace is snoring gently, making occasional little yelps of joy. I listen again.

‘BUZZZZZZZZZ.’ That’s not a mosquito, it’s a boat!

I fling back the covers. Grace lumbers from her sleep but no sooner is she on her feet than she’s alert. I run into the dark living room wearing nothing but a T-shirt and press my face against the cold, damp glass of the window.

There’s a light! No, two lights! They’re back! My heart starts thumping so loudly it’s banging my eardrums as well. My breathing quickens. What can I do? I rummage for my phone, but there’s no mobile reception, not even for emergency calls. I can’t phone Sean, and I can’t phone the Garda either. I pull on my big yellow coat, grab the keys from the hook, but I have no idea how they’ll help. Grace is now dancing around, tail wagging, hoping for a midnight walk. I step into my boots, grab a torch, and take the biggest breath I have ever taken and open the door, really gently.

Grace pushes her way out with her nose, still dancing round my feet and I’m hoping that she doesn’t knock anything over. I don’t turn on the torch. I have to get closer to see what’s going on. The boat’s engine suddenly cuts out and I stop. I crouch down, as if that’s going to help! I wonder if they’ve seen me. If not, perhaps they can hear my heart thundering because it’s deafening me! But they don’t seem to have.

I smooth Grace’s head. I can hear faint voices. I take quiet footsteps towards the tractor and hold on to the back of it. I can hear the water very gently lapping at the wheels.

Slish, splosh, splish, splosh.

I try and listen to the murmur of their voices. They’re wearing head torches but I can’t see their faces. The torches bob around like dancing fireflies. I can see the outline of a boat and then I see it! They’re lifting a dripping sack of oysters from the water with a big long stick. I have to stop them!

‘Hey! Put that back!’ Fear has been replaced by pure fury. ‘Put it back!’ I shout. Grace suddenly starts barking and jumping around in the shallow water, getting me wet. They don’t seem to be moving. Grace stops jumping and I listen. I can hear the faint sound of laughter and then, unbelievably, see another bag being lifted.

‘PUT IT BACK!’ I scream, pointing with my finger. ‘PUT IT BACK!’

But they’re not moving. They’re lifting more sacks. Still I can’t see their faces, their caps pulled down, but I’d know his face again if I saw it. The face at the bathroom window.

‘Grr!’ I grit my teeth in frustration.

I look around for something to help me, anything!

I grab a stone and throw it as hard as I can. It lands with a splash only feet away from me, but Grace thinks this is a great game and chases after it. I pick up and throw another and another, shouting all the time. But more and more bags are being lifted.

‘LEAVE THEM ALONE!’

‘Splash!’ I launch another stone.

‘GO AWAY!’

‘Splash!

Nothing is shifting them.

If only Sean were here he’d go out in the boat. I can’t even get further than my knees.

‘Grrrrrr!’ I’m so frustrated.

Perhaps if I can get higher. I gather up more stones and shove them into my pockets, then climb up into the seat of the tractor.

‘CLEAR OFF!’ I yell, and launch more of my missiles. They plop just in front of the tractor.

They’re not moving because I’m not. They know I can’t get to them. If only I could sail the boat. But I can’t. I can’t go any deeper. I’m frozen here by fear.

But maybe if they thought I was going to get closer … I grapple for the keys in my pocket. I know the key to the tractor’s here somewhere. I fumble with them, trying to find the right key and get it in the key hole while holding the torch. Finally, it goes in. I check the gear stick is in neutral. I’m not going to actually drive it, just roll it forward a bit.

‘Go away! I know who you are! The Garda’s coming!’ Then I turn the key and the engine erupts into farting, spluttering life.

‘I MEAN IT! I’M COMING! AND SO ARE THE GARDA!’ But still they don’t move and more and more bags are being lifted from the water into their boat. Maybe if I just moved the tractor forward a little, to let them know I’m coming after them. I push down the clutch and push the tractor into first. It clunks into place. I slowly release the clutch and gently push down on the accelerator. It begins to roll forward.

‘I’M COMING!’ And by some miracle the boat engine starts up. I can still hear laughter but they’re leaving. The boat spins round, closely missing the trestle tables loaded with oysters ready to go to the co-operative. I put my foot on the clutch and brake.

‘Yessss!’ I pull in a clenched fist. Adrenalin is pumping through my body. I did it! They’re going. I can still hear the faint sound of laughter as the boat buzzes off out of the bay.

I sit back. ‘Yessssssss!’ I punch the air and my foot slips off the clutch and the tractor rockets forward into the water.

‘Nooooo!’ I try to get my slippery foot back on the pedal. I can’t see where we’re going. The tractor tips from side to side and the torch flies from hand. I can’t get my balance. I try and grab the steering wheel, eventually get a grip and yank as hard as I can, then the tractor hits something underwater, knocking me off balance again. The accelerator is stuck. I’m slipping and sliding trying to get control of the runaway vehicle, but the water’s getting deeper and I panic and before I can think about it, I bail out into the knee-high water. The tractor is heading deeper, bumping and rolling its way towards the oyster beds.

I can only hold my hands over my mouth and watch as it lumbers like a hungry bear towards the trestle tables with what’s left of the oysters ready to be collected the next day.

There’s a bang, a clank, a crunch, a squeal; the sounds of metal being mashed and oysters being crushed.

And the tractor gives a final dying sigh before sinking into a watery grave. I feel sick, physically sick.

‘Shit! Shit! Shit!’ Me and my bloody fear of bloody water. Terrified of the unknown! Terrified of my own shadow more like. But not half as terrified as I’m going to be when Sean gets back tomorrow. ‘Shit!’