The Oyster Catcher (11 page)

Chapter Twenty

‘Hang on, so let me get this right …’ He takes a very deep breath. ‘You’re telling me I’ve lost most of my oyster stock because … why exactly?’ Sean asks very quietly, it’s almost a whisper. He’s standing on the edge of the shore staring out at the devastation in front him. I’ve spent the morning trying to salvage what I could but it was hopeless, especially on a neap tide. Nancy’s beside him, her mouth wide open. Part of me thought about running out in the night. But I’ve had that dilemma before, nowhere to go, no transport. I had to stay and try and explain. With a dry mouth and a shake in my voice I start.

‘It was last night. I wanted to stop them but … I tried throwing rocks and I couldn’t call anyone. They had a boat. I shouted at them to stop but they wouldn’t. The boat nearly knocked over the  trestles. I tried to scare them off by starting up the tractor, then the accelerator got stuck and I had to jump off and the oyster sacks all fell into the water but I couldn’t go in after them …’

‘It’s not very deep, didn’t you think to just wade in. Or why didn’t you just get in the boat? I thought you’d been on a sailing course.’

‘Because …’ My mouth dries up.

‘Yes?’ He’s looking at me intensely, there’s coldness in his eyes. I lick my lips trying to create some moisture in my mouth.

‘Because I’m, I’m, I’m …’ Oh, what did it matter now? ‘Because I’m scared of water.’ There, I’ve said it. ‘I couldn’t do anything about it because I’m scared of water.’

For a moment there’s silence. He bites his bottom lip and then says slowly and quietly, ‘And you never thought to mention this fact? Hm? What with me being your employer,’ his voice getting gradually louder, ‘on an oyster farm!’

It’s fair to say he has a point. I stop fiddling with the loose stitching on the sleeve of my jacket. I lift my chin and look at him.

‘I needed the job and somewhere to live. And I don’t think I’ve done a bad job for you. I might not have told you about my fear of water but I’ve worked hard and helped you get this place ready for the inspection.’

Nancy rolls her eyes incredulously.

‘You’ve ruined his livelihood.’

Guilt is gnawing away inside me.

‘I’ll pay you back, every penny, I promise.’ I’m wringing my hands over and over.

‘Let’s hope so,’ Nancy cuts in again.

‘How?’ he says flatly.

Looking out, floating broken trestle tables litter the water, oyster sacks are ripped and floating. The oystercatchers, heron, and seagulls are having a feast. Sean’s right: ‘how’ was the question.

He pulls the collars of his coat around his ears and marches towards the jetty, muttering, ‘Feckin’ incompetent!’

He’s right again and it hurts.

‘Sean, where are you going? We need to talk about this. Customers will have to know. The truck will be on its way …’ Nancy calls after him. ‘Sean?!’ But Sean just keeps walking down the jetty to the hooker.

‘What shall I tell them?’ she calls again. ‘Those oysters were going to France tomorrow.’

‘I’m out on my boat. I have things to do.’ He finally replies, zipping up his wax jacket, untying the ropes, and then jumping down into the boat as it sways this way and that. The heron suddenly lands on the jetty next to the boat and marches up and down as if waiting impatiently for it to leave.

‘I can’t help but notice you’re still here,’ Nancy says to me while trying to get a signal on her iPhone without success. She waves it around in the air. ‘Bloody place! At least I won’t have to come out to this God-forsaken farm any more. But I do need more oyster suppliers.’ She’s scrolling through her contacts.

‘He loves this place. He won’t leave.’ My eyes sting.

‘I know I wanted him to spend more time with me, but I didn’t want you to ruin our businesses,’ she says with a spiked laugh. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got customers to speak to and oyster farmers to find.’

Nancy tosses her hair over her shoulder like she’s in a shampoo advert, goes back to her car, and drives off at speed. Then there’s silence; just the sloshing of the water and the fallen trestle tables in front of me. On the water Sean has the sails up, all three of them full and deep. He’s urging the boat on as if his life depends on it. The heron’s keeping up with him like a horseman loyally following its master’s carriage. There’s nothing more I can do out here.

I go to my room and sit down on the little bed. It creaks like I knew it would. I’m suddenly very tired. I didn’t sleep much last night and when I did drop off, just before dawn, I dreamt about donkeys, running amok though my wedding, ruining everything.

I start putting my few belongings into a plastic bag. I open the little drawer in the bedside cabinet and take out my rings. I hold the engagement ring up in front of my face. I remember when we bought it.

Brian had been away on a walking holiday, not long after we’d been away sailing. I had to drop out. The new manageress had walked out and Betty was due in hospital for a hip replacement. She wanted me to cover and keep the place running but Kimberly thought she should do it. I stuck to doing extra shifts in the kitchen and sorting out the mess Kimberly had made of the till at night. Brian and Adrian went on the walking holiday. When Brian came back he seemed different somehow, more interested in me. He took me out for lunch, well, sandwiches in Costa Coffee, which was a bit of a busman’s holiday, and then said we were going to choose a ring. It was time we got engaged now we’d been together for three years. He didn’t actually ask me, just sort of let me know. But that was as close as it got to romance with Brian. He was a very practical man, had life mapped out. Which is why I think he surprised himself as much as anyone when he ran out on our wedding day. He wasn’t a man for impulsive actions.

We went and chose a ring and I went back to work. He picked it up two days later and brought it into The Coffee House. Betty’s Buns had now become a faceless franchise. Kimberly nearly died when she saw the ring and decided the Atkins diet was the only way forward for her. Betty eyed it and told Brian it should’ve been bigger what with him being a minor celebrity in the area. The radio station where Brian worked announced his engagement on air.

He took the congratulations while I went back to baking a batch of blueberry muffins for the after-school rush.

I never really felt comfortable wearing the ring though. Mostly I had it on a chain around my neck and Brian had to remind me to put it on after work. I was too worried about losing it in a French fancy or custard slice. I thought it was too expensive but Brian assured me he had it covered.

I turn it over. It doesn’t sparkle or make me smile. But it might just help me out. I stand up and Brian’s sweatshirt, the one I have worn every night since I arrived here, falls to the floor. I pick it up, leave it on the bed and then walk out, shutting the door behind me.

Sean is coming into the kitchen at the same time as me. My heart does a quick double beat. His hair is tossed all over the place and his face is pale and drawn, a far cry from the man who’d been so happy yesterday to get his licence. My heart then begins to feel like someone’s squeezing it, tightly. I swallow hard and clear my throat.

‘It can be repaired, right?’ I say feeling stupid. He looks at me and sighs. He goes to the cupboard and gets out two cups, one for coffee, one for tea, and then reaches down and pulls out a new bottle of whiskey.

‘You won’t sell up will you? You won’t leave?’ I have to know.

He pours water into the cups and then bangs down the kettle, making me jump.

‘What part of this are you struggling with? I’m an oyster farmer without any oysters to sell. Without oysters I can’t pay for my licence nor can I buy in any new spat to fatten up and sell.’ He pours a slug of whiskey into his coffee.

He hates me, and why wouldn’t he? I’ve ruined his business.

‘Anyway, why does it matter to you? You’re leaving,’ he says coldly. He swallows his coffee even though it’s so hot it must have burnt his mouth, and marches out. He obviously can’t stand to be in the same room as me.

‘Sean, wait!’ I run out after him with my bag of belongings. ‘Where are you going?’

‘Galway. See if I can find someone to help salvage what’s left of my business.’ He’s pulling on his wax jacket as he stalks across to the van.

‘Wait, I’m coming with you.’

He looks at me and then back out at the damaged oyster beds and then gets into the van saying nothing.

We travel along the coast road in silence. Sean is gently simmering. Eventually, an hour or so later I summon up the courage to speak. I turn to look at him.

‘Just tell me you’re not going to sell up.’

He’s looking straight ahead.

‘Not if I can help it but I’m not sure what options I have,’ he replies. Then he turns to me. ‘And now I don’t even have an assistant.’

I look down at my bag of belongings. It’s my turn to tut.

‘I didn’t think you’d want me to stay, not after what I’ve done. Or couldn’t do.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, not being able to get in the water.’

‘Actually,’ he says, ‘I think what you did was quite brave, considering you’re terrified of water. I did wonder why you never moved when we were turning the oyster sacks.’ And to my surprise he laughed, just a little one, and despite myself I can’t help but laugh too.

‘So, how long have you been this scared of water,’ Sean concentrates on the road. Somehow it’s easier to talk when you’re not looking at each other in the eye.

‘Ever since Brian, my … ex,’ is the best way I can think of describing him. I don’t know if he’s my ex-boyfriend, my ex-fiancé or my ex-husband.

‘We went on a sailing holiday. GreekIslands. Thought it might be, y’know, exciting. I’ve never been that good around water, not since I got swept under a wave on a beach in Folkestone when I was a kid. Some woman dragged me from the water. I just remember the white foam all around me and then gasping for air. The woman took me back to my Mum. I was so relieved, but she was just cross. She was always cross with me. She was with some new fella and told me off for spoiling her afternoon.’ My throat tightens up and I have to swallow hard. Sean doesn’t say anything. I still remember the white foam swallowing me up.

‘Anyway, Brian was booking our holiday. It was always the same. Usually in the UK. He’d spend weeks planning a route, various walks we could do, historical sights, and pub grub in the evening. This one year, I thought we should try and do something different. So I booked the sailing holiday. We had two days of tuition and on the third day they told us to travel as a group, to this next destination round the island.’ I sigh and take another sip of tea.

‘The long and short of it is, a storm got up. Brian was terrified and sat down in the galley. I tried to take down the sail but it jammed stuck and I couldn’t get it down. We were being blown further and further out to sea. Eventually a couple of guys from our group came to rescue us. They got us to shore and poured us large brandies. We decided to stay shore-bound from then on.’

I remember telling Brian afterwards, in a mad moment, that I thought we should give up the five-year plan, buy the flat, get engaged, get married, try for a family. I thought we should just go for what we wanted. Life was too short, anything could have happened. I remember how he looked at me, the lights going out in his eyes. I decided to play it safe from there on in. But things were never the same after that holiday.

‘We stuck to walking and pub grub after that.’

‘What about the guys who rescued you? Did you ever see them again?’

‘Oh yes,’ I say matter-of-factly. ‘One of them was our best man …’

We fall into silence. Finally he says, ‘Have you been into the city before?’ A line of traffic in front of us stops us by a harbour of small boats. I shake my head. There are swans being fed by parents with children. On the other side of the harbour is a row of brightly coloured cottages. They look like something out of a children’s programme.

‘Where do you need to go?’ He sees a parking space and pulls in.

‘I need a pawn shop.’ I reach into my pocket and pull out my ring. ‘My back-up plan,’ I say with a tight smile.

‘That’s very sensible. Why haven’t you used it before?’ He reverses and straightens the van.

‘Because I wasn’t ready to.’ I put it back in my pocket.

‘And you are now?’ He pulls on the handbrake with a crunch.

I just nod.

‘Well, I have to go and talk to the bank, it’s on

‘How come you don’t go to the bank in Dooleybridge?’ I ask as we get out of the van.

‘I like to keep my business affairs private.’

He shoves his hands into his pockets and begins to walk towards a bridge over a fast-flowing river. I follow him. We fall into step side by side.

‘Y’know, English …’ He seems calmer now. ‘We’re all allowed to make one mistake.’

‘Is that when you made yours, when you went to prison?’

He throws his head back and laughs.

‘So the gossips have been at work.’ He pushes his hands further into his pockets.

‘I just heard you were in prison.’

‘I was. In America. For working without a visa.’

‘Is that all?’

‘I was working in an oyster bar. The owner didn’t want to pay me what he owed me and called the cops on me.’

‘How come they don’t know that, in the town?’

‘Because,’ he lights up a cigarette and blows out the smoke, ‘they never asked.’

We carry on over the bridge and then cross the road. In front of me is a cobbled street. It’s busy and there’s bunting strung across it from shop to shop. Sean heads up the middle in between the bars and cafés on either side.

‘Spanish arch,’ he says pointing to an old stone archway on the other side of the road as if he feels obliged to play tourist guide. ‘And here we are.’

There are musicians playing in the street. Everyone seems to have a spring in their step and there’s chatter and music everywhere. People are outside the pubs and cafés smoking and drinking. I’m almost getting caught up in the Shop Street atmosphere, forgetting everything that has happened, when Sean stops halfway up the street and says, ‘I won’t be long,’ and heads into the big grey stone building of a bank without me.