Read The Oyster Catcher Online
Authors: Jo Thomas
Sean watched Nancy and Henri for a moment more and then put down his his untouched champagne, kissed Jean Francois and Monique on both cheeks and walked out, just as the singer announced a toast ‘to the happy couple’ and everyone cheered.
As the sun starts to creep up over the horizon, the wind has all but gone and I can see the final few bags that have blown up the shore and onto the bog land beside and behind the sheds. I moor the boat and put the bags in the shed.
When I reach the cottage I find I’m absolutely shattered. Every bone in my body is aching and I’m soaked. My stomach turns over and I find myself rushing to the toilet where I’m sick. I turn on the shower and let hot water pour over me, grateful that it hasn’t chosen this morning to play silly buggers. My knees are like jelly. The sun is creeping up into the sky and it looks like it’s going to be a nice day. Once I’m dry, I dress, and give Grace a final pat on the head.
‘Your master’ll be back soon,’ I assure her and then I pick up my passport and my bag and head for the door. I can’t look back at her. I feel like I’m abandoning her. And it’s so hard, but it’s for all the right reasons.
I can hear a car coming down the lane, which has saved me a walk, as my legs are struggling to put one foot in front of the other. I take a final look at the bay. I know I’m leaving having done my best for it and Sean. I turn back to see Sean’s red van pulling into the gates, behind it is the hackney.
Sean jumps out of the van.
‘I just heard it on the news, about the storm.’ He looks around worried. ‘Are you OK?’
‘They’re all in the shed. They’re all safe,’ I say wearily and walk to the hackney that’s turning round. I get in, watching Sean pull back the shed doors. I don’t think he’s realised I’m leaving and I think quite possibly that’s for the best.
‘Galway coach station please. I’m catching the bus to Shannon airport.’ Then I sit back and close my eyes, so I can’t see the town as I leave.
‘Fallen tree in the storm last night. Whopper wasn’t it?’ says David the driver as we stop and start our way into Galway. I open my eyes, agree with him, then stare out to sea. But the more I stare the more I keep thinking I can see a red sail in the distance. Probably tiredness.
I feel wretched. I’ve let it happen all over again. I’m humiliated and hurt all over again, only this time it’s much worse. I feel angry with Sean for settling for his loveless marriage, but more than anything I’m angry with myself for letting myself fall in love. The one thing I said I didn’t want to do. I shut my eyes again all the way to the coach station.
Sean watched as the red hackney drove over the bridge and up into Galway City Centre. There was no way he could get to her now. Even if he moored here in the harbour, he’d never make it up to the coach station by foot. He’d tried everything to catch up with the hackney and stop her from going. He sat down in the boat, it bobbed to and fro, almost as if it was panting from the exertion of the wild run into the city.
‘Hey, nice boat, mister,’ some young boy called from his jostling group of friends who were eating sausage rolls from paper bags and throwing crumbs to the waiting swans.
‘Give us a ride,’ another shouted and pushed his mates playfully. Sean gathered the ropes together and prepared to turn the boat about. She’d chosen to go and he hadn’t had the chance to tell her how he felt. He’d been wrong about Nancy and he’d been wrong to try and run away and hide from his feelings for Fi. She’d saved his oysters but stolen his heart and now she’d gone it hurt like hell. He pulled at the ropes and the hooker began to come round, heading for home. The heron landed on the brow of the boat. Even he’d struggled to keep pace with Sean but he’d kept going, never doubting he’d find him. He knew his way home. He just hoped Fi did too.
I’m on autopilot going through security and visa inspection. I’ve bought a bag from one of the airport shops and packed the contents of my black bin liner into it.
I’m checked in and my bag is on its way to the plane. I go into the departures lounge. I look up at the screen. My plane’s delayed. I sigh and then see a computer offering internet access. I decide to have one last peek at the festival website, just to kill the time. The live feed should be up and running now, organised by Dan’s TV company. I type in the oyster festival and a message flashes across the screen:
‘Venue flooded. Festival postponed until further notice.’
I’m in shock. All that work, all that effort and the oysters won’t even get their moment of glory. I log out and head for a seat. I wonder if they’ve noticed I’ve gone. Was anyone trying to contact me? Of course they’ve noticed. Gerald will have been wondering where his brownies are, Patsy will be wondering why I’m not there to help set up the bar, Chef will be have been shouting for his oysters, Margaret will be running round like a headless chicken now the venue’s been flooded. I suddenly feel very weepy.
I go to pull out some loo roll from my pocket and find Brian’s letter. I’m holding the letter and before I know it I’m ripping apart the thick cream envelope. I pull it out and can see the creases where it’s been handled, traces that’s it’s been read by Nancy. There’s even a faint trace of her perfume. It makes me feel sick. Nancy knows what she wants and she goes out there to get it. Maybe now, I finally know what I want, but it’s too late.
Dear Fiona,
I hope this letter finds you and finds you well. If you’re wondering how I knew where to send it; I’d been trying to track you down for ages but had no luck, and then by chance a Google alert came through about a new oyster festival in Galway. And there you were. It took me a while to recognise you, your name didn’t fit but it was definitely you, celebrating the launch of the festival.’
Shit! It must’ve been the taken on the night Dan got the prize money for the shuck-off. I should’ve been more careful.
‘You looked so different, you looked happy. And I hope you are. I hope you can be as happy as I am with Adrian. Who’d’ve thought you’d be part of the oyster-farming community, what with your fear of water? But then you were always able to take on whatever life threw at you. It was one of the things I admired about you.’
I don’t know whether to laugh or cry some more. Brian admired about me. I never knew. I suppose that’s why we were able to live side by side for so long, hiding behind each other.
‘I’m so sorry I didn’t have the guts to end things and I let things go as far as they did. Believe me I never meant to hurt you. It must have looked like a really cowardly thing to do, but it was the hardest thing I have ever done. I could’ve carried on being your husband but neither of us would ever have really been happy. One of us had to be brave, for us both to find happiness. I want you to be happy Fi.
We were just kidding ourselves because we were too scared to go out and start living. You only get one life, go out and live it.
I’ve enclosed the marriage annulment. This gives you a fresh start, one where you can be yourself and not just be there for me to hide behind. You have so much to offer the world, but you need to be you. Just like in
Dirty Dancing
, “No one puts baby in the corner,” well, no one should put Fiona in the corner; go and dance your own tune.
My love, gratitude, and friendship, always, Brian. xx’
Tears are rolling down my face, but I don’t feel distraught. My husband finally tells me our life together is over, and I’m elated. I mean, his timing was crap. Shame he couldn’t have actually realised this before we got to the altar, but then Brian never was one for being impetuous. And as a first attempt, it was better late than never. He did it for both of us. I smile. I feel I could do anything I wanted. I pull back the Formica door. I do know what I want. Sean may have decided to stay with Nancy, choosing his head over his heart, but this isn’t just about Sean. This is about me and the people and the place I’ve come to love.
I pull out the paperwork Brian has sent me and sign my name where he’s marked with a cross. Fiona Clutterbuck, I write with a flourish. Not Fiona Goodchild, not Fiona English, but Fiona Clutterbuck. It feels good to be me at last.
I put at the bottom and push the paperwork into the pre-paid envelope and seal it. Now to find a post box on my way out of here. I go to the desk just as they’re announcing that my flight has been cancelled due to bad weather. I ask for my bag to be unloaded. I’m Fiona Clutterbuck, I can do what the hell I want, and right now, I have a festival to rescue.
It’s a scene of utter devastation as I stand at the entrance to the marquee. Outside the sun may be starting to shine but inside it’s like a paddy field. You can’t see the coir matting that Nancy wanted. The chairs have been knocked over; their big purple chiffon ribbons soaked in dirty water. I feel totally wretched.
‘You came back!’ Margaret shrieks.
I swing round and beam too and open my arms to hug her.
‘I knew you would,’ she says and puts down her bucket and mop and hugs me tightly.
‘How could I?’ I say pulling away and looking round at the mess.
‘Came out of nowhere.’ Dan’s standing behind Margaret. ‘So how come you’re not in Boston?’ He looks a bit peeved, and I can’t really blame him; that’s twice I’ve let him down about this job.
‘Slight change of plan. Thought I might be needed here,’ I say truthfully.
‘What are we going to do?’ Margaret wails and puts her head into Dan’s chest.
‘Well …’ I do have one idea but I’m not sure I can make it happen. Dan and Margaret are looking at me but the words won’t come out as Sean comes in at that moment carrying a tool kit. My stomach flips over and back again like a gymnast doing flick-flacks across the floor.
‘Well, that’s the drain unblocked but I’m not sure what we’re going to do about this …’ He stops in his tracks too. ‘Fi!’ I could be mistaken but I’m sure his face suddenly brightens. Even my eyeballs are hot from blushing. But being around Sean is something I’m going to have to get used to if I’m staying round here.
‘Hello, Sean. How was the party?’ No point dancing round the subject.
‘Illuminating,’ he says. There’s an uncomfortable silence. Dan and Margaret look at each other. I don’t want to hear any more; I don’t need a blow by blow account of how spectacular it was.
‘What are you doing here?’ I ask but I know Nancy must’ve sent him. Why else would he be getting involved?
‘Let’s just say, someone made me realise that I needed to get a bit more involved with … all of this.’
‘In that case,’ I cut Sean off before I lose my nerve, ‘you could do worse than getting really involved.’
He frowns and gives me a look that says he might not like what I’m about to say.
‘Go on,’ he tilts his head like he always does when he’s listening and stares right at me as if he can read my thoughts.
‘I mean, if we’re to have an oyster festival, here, today, we need to ditch this idea.’ I look around.
‘What?’ Margaret shrieks, her hands fly to her face. ʻCancel it?! Everyone wants to celebrate, what with the native oysters being back. Everyone’s so delighted. Ah, shite!’
‘No,’ I say slowly. ‘Not cancel it, relocate it. Take it back to the farm. The tide’ll be out. If this festival is going to happen at all, it needs to be a festival the local people want,’ I look straight back at Sean. He stares at me hard, narrowing his eyes, but I stand my ground and stare back at him.
Suddenly he nods his head briskly.
‘Let’s do it,’ he says quickly and firmly, and Margaret shrieks and jumps and down with delight.
Sean and I drive back to the farm in silence and at speed. Margaret and Dan follow in Margaret’s Fiesta as do others in various different vehicles. Freddie and Mercury are missing from their field and there’s no sign of them on the lane up to the farm. Maybe the storm scared them.
‘Margaret, you get online and announce the venue change on Facebook, Twitter, and on our website. See if you can get Dooleybridge Oyster Festival trending! Tell people to bring their wellies and come ready for a good old-fashioned oyster festival, the way it used to be! A tenner on the door and there’ll be music and food.’
‘Music? But the band’s cancelled,’ Sean says.
‘Sean, it may not be Wembley but dust down your guitar, and see who else you can rustle up to play with you.’ Surprisingly Sean doesn’t argue.
‘Oh and can you organise for people to go out in the boat to collect some oysters or pick some up from the raft. It’s the best spring tide of the summer according to the weather website. We should make the most of it.’
‘Who’s going to take them if I’m busy on stage?’ Sean protests.
I grin. ‘I can handle it.’
‘How are we going to feed everyone? The chef from Galway has refused to come out.’ Margaret looks worried.
‘Dan, follow me.’ I lead him and Margaret down to the old barn and fling open the doors.
‘We’ll put up the tables and chairs, and Dan, can you drag that out and fire it up?’ I point at the oil drum barbecue.
‘No problem, boss!’ he jokes but I notice Sean is glowering at him.
‘Sean? Van keys?’ I hold up my hands in a cup shape.
He pulls away his stare from Dan and tosses them to me without question.
‘You boys, play nicely while I’m away,’ I joke, pointing to Sean and Dan, buoyed up by my turn-around decision.
I drive down the flooded lane, the potholes filled with water. There’s a massive rainbow right across the town showing every colour. I reach the small bungalow at the end of a short drive on the other side of town. There’s washing on the line already slightly greying, but blowing gaily in the wind regardless.
I knock on the white plastic front door.
‘Hello, Freda.’ She looks at me suspiciously but then we both speak at the same time.
‘I’m sorry to hear about the festival …’ she says.
‘About the festival,’ I say. We both stop.
‘You go first,’ I say politely.
‘Sorry about the festival love. Hear it’s cancelled. I may not have said this before but you put a lot of hard work into it.’
I smile.
‘Actually Freda, it’s back on. Up at Sean’s farm. We’re going to have an old-fashioned oyster festival, music, pick your own oysters, and the shell-shucking contest. Everyone’s welcome.’
‘Really?’ Her face lights up.
‘Well that’s grand! Just grand! Hear that John Joe?’ she calls over her shoulder. ‘Ring the kids. Tell them the festival is on, just like the old days, up at Tom’s place. I mean Sean Thornton’s farm,’ she corrects herself. Accepted at last, I think happily.
‘Now, what can I do to help? Want any scones made?’ she rubs her hands together.
‘Actually Freda, it wasn’t scones I needed,’ I say hoping that this isn’t going to blow our new-found friendship. ‘I was thinking … how about fishcakes?’ I say quickly.
‘Fishcakes?’ She screws up her nose.
‘Yes, they’d be great on the barbecue with the oysters and well, I just thought you might be the woman for the job.
‘Well, I suppose I could give them a try. I’ve got quite a lot of fish in the freezer of course, what with John Joe having the boat.’ She’s thinking. ‘Maybe we could do them in a bun, like a burger …’
‘Perfect!’ I clap my hands together.
‘Well, I’m happy to give them a try. I’ll bring them up to the farm as soon as their done.’
We say goodbye and I turn to leave. The sun is shining and my cheeks are warm. I strip off my coat and jump back in the van. I know exactly where I’m going next.
In the pub there’s a smell of cleaning fluids and stale beer. The fire’s lit despite the sunshine outside. Just like when I first arrived in town, I push open the door, it crashes back and I walk in, stand and stare. Propping up the bar are Seamus and Padraig. They pull their hats down and turn towards their pints.
No one says anything. I march over to them.
‘Right, you two!’ To say they’re shocked is an understatement. Seamus clings on to his pint with both hands. Padraig pulls down his baseball cap further. ‘Get yourselves up to Sean’s farm and start putting out the tables and chairs for the festival.’
They stare at me in surprise.
‘You paying us?’
‘You must be joking. Shift yourselves, unless you want me to show Sean those photos I took of the pair of you. Or the Garda for that matter. This is payback time.’ I put my hands on my hips. They nod a lot of times and push their pints away. ‘Oh, and while you’re at it, seeing as you know the lay of the land so well, you can show the punters across the oyster beds to collect oysters for the barbecue. Clear?’
‘Clear,’ they say and push and hustle each other out of the pub.
‘Hey lads, not finishing your pints?’ Patsy laughs watching them go and takes their pints off the bar. ‘I guess I’ll save them for later.’
‘Patsy, are you still OK to run a bar today?’
‘Got the drink still, it’s just the marquee that’s down,’
‘Great, bring it up to Sean’s farm, say at about two? I’ll have a table laid out for you. Now then, Grandad.’
Patsy nods to him dozing by the fire.
‘Bring him up to the farm too. I’ve got just the job for him.’
‘Righto,’ says Patsy. ‘Grandad, get yourself moving. It’s oyster festival day,’ Patsy calls over as I leave. I feel the excitement too.
Next I check on Margaret who’s working hard in Gerald’s café on the internet. The café looks different. I look around.
‘Gerald, you’ve had a clean out!’ All his ex-wife’s clothes and belongings are gone.
‘Time for a fresh start,’ he says handing me a take-away tea.
‘It looks twice the size in here.’ I say, impressed
‘Let’s hope after today I have twice the number of customers,’ he smiles.
Tea in hand I head back to the van and go via Mad Frank’s caravan.
‘Frank, what are you like at tracking down donkeys?
‘Leave it to me Fi.’ He touches his forehead. Looks like everyone is happy to help.