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 so quietly, it’s almost a whisper.
He’s standing on the edge of the shore, staring out at the devastation in front of 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, 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? Hmm? 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, broken trestle tables litter the water, oyster sacks are ripped and floating. The oystercatchers, seagulls and that heron are having a feast. Sean’s right: ‘how’ is the question.
He pulls the collar 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 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 instead.
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.
But I knew his minor celebrity wages wouldn’t have been much more than mine.
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. 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.
My heart does a quick double beat, then feels 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 each other in the eye.