Chapter Twenty-Two
‘Come on,’ he beckons. But I can’t. I’m rooted to the spot, shivering. I shake my head. He rolls his eyes and shrugs his shoulders in exasperation.
‘You can single-handedly take on hairy-arsed oyster pirates but you’re scared of a bit of water?’
‘Yes, and look where that got me,’ I say, referring to the oyster pirates.
‘I said you took them on. I didn’t say you took them on and won,’ he says with surprisingly good humour.
I look down at the decking along the jetty and can see the water under it, moving around, making my head swim.
‘And that’s not a bit of water, it’s a lot of water.’ I feel like a petulant child. ‘I can’t, I’m sorry. Ask Nancy. I’m not your woman,’ I say, walking away feeling stupid and pathetic.
‘Oh yes you are,’ I hear from behind me, and before I have a chance to answer, my feet are swept up from under me and Sean has me in his arms walking back up the jetty.
‘You can’t do this! Put me down!’ I demand.
‘Yes I can,’ he says, matter-of-factly.
‘Put me down!’ I want to hit him, push him away, but find myself clinging to him for dear life as he walks down the jetty towards the boat. What if the jetty gives way? What if we fall in? What’s down there? He marches on.
‘There’s nothing to be scared of,’ he says evenly. ‘You just need to trust me.’
‘Trust is a very overrated emotion,’ I squeak, tucking my head into his neck, my eyes shut. He smells so good and I wish he didn’t. I wish I didn’t want to stay hiding away with my eyes shut and my head in his neck for a very long time.
He puts me down and I open my eyes. I’m right on the edge of the jetty. I cling to him to stop myself falling in. I’m so terrified that I follow his every instruction and get in the boat. Every now and again as the boat sways I let out a little squeak, like a young child, or maybe a pig.
I clutch the sides tightly while taking the seat he points to.
I sit absolutely stock still, barely breathing.
My knuckles are white from holding on so tight.
I take a quick look at the dark water to one side and wish I hadn’t.
Sean is working away with ropes, nimbly moving around the boat.
My lifejacket is rubbing at my jaw and cheeks and pushing up my ears.
I feel like a tortoise ready to retreat into its shell.
I check out the location of the lifebuoy and fix my eyes on it.
Sean gets into position by the rudder and gently starts to move the boat away from the jetty.
I stop breathing altogether. He’s looking up at the sail and back at me alternately.
I just don’t move and wonder how long this dreadful ordeal is going to last. I feel like a contestant on I’m a Celebrity …
Get Me Out of Here! Only I’m not a celebrity, I’m a nobody.
We are now nearly in the middle of the bay and I’m reminding myself to breathe intermittently.
I am completely surrounded by water. My worst nightmare.
The sails are flapping and thankfully we’re not moving too fast. I keep my eyes fixed on the rocks on the other side of the bay.
I can see where we’re going, which I’m happier about.
When you grow up with a crazy parent you like to know where you’re going.
That’s why I think I was happy with Brian.
He’d mapped out our lives for us. Then he cut me adrift, just like I feel now.
‘Look, those are the oysters I showed you on the first day, you didn’t know what they were,’ Sean says above the breeze. I nod. It’s all I can do. ‘I said it wasn’t important.’ I nod again. ‘Well, they are important. It was a test.’ He looks back at me.
‘What? What kind of a test?’ I feel suddenly affronted. We’re out of the bay now and making our way around a headland of rocks.
‘Shh!’ he suddenly says. And I feel even more affronted. He’s the one who’s brought me out here and is asking me the questions, and now he wants me to shush.
‘But—’
‘Shhhh!’ he says again with his finger to his lips.
‘Seals.’ I follow where he’s pointing. At first I have no idea what I’m looking for.
And then I see it. A dark brown, shiny head popping up from the water.
I catch my breath and cling tighter to the sides of the boat.
It’s both fascinating and confirming of all my fears.
Anything could be swimming below us and tip us up.
Then another head pops up. On the rocks beyond, there are two others lying out.
One rolls over, stretches and slides into the water.
I’m entranced and terrified at the same time. They’re behind us now and we’ve moved into a second bay, beyond the path I walked on the first day.
Sean loosens the sails and we slow to a stop.
‘Look below you,’ he instructs. ‘Look on the sea bed,’ he nods over the side of the boat.
‘I can’t,’ I shake my head firmly. I feel sick.
He lets go of the rudder and comes over to me. I try not to squeal out loud, but don’t know if I manage it as the boat rocks from side to side.
‘It’s OK. I’m here and nothing’s going to happen. What you need is a day at my sailing school.’
‘It’s the last thing I need,’ I answer quickly.
He says nothing but puts his hand over mine. ‘Just do it. What’s the worst that can happen?’
‘Oh, I could be catapulted out of the boat, find myself drowning in black waters, being dragged down by who knows what … nothing bad, really,’ I say, hating the sound of my own sarcasm. I sound like my mother.
‘You won’t be dragged down into black waters because you can see the bottom. I promise.’ He’s kneeling in front of me, staring right at me, and I feel a flutter of excitement in my stomach. I want to trust him but …
‘Just look for yourself if you don’t believe me,’ he continues, and he’s probably right.
I’ll only believe it if I see it for myself.
I slowly take my eyes off him and look to where he’s pointing.
The boat leans and I cling tighter, but still I look.
The water is clear and I can see the bottom and all over the bottom are rocks of some sort.
I look back at him.
‘What are they?’
His face breaks into the biggest smile, so different from his set and angry face when we left the city.
‘They’re oysters … wild oysters, native oysters,’ he says. ‘My uncle discovered them years ago. It proves the waters here are clean. Only I know about them.’
‘So they’ll replace the oysters that were lost?’ I’m suddenly excited.
He shakes his head. ‘No, they can’t replace those. They were farmed oysters, Pacific ones. If I can sell these they’ll make far more money than all my other oyster stock. I’ll be able to pay off the loan no problem, and keep the farm going.’
‘But that’s brilliant,’ I say, still confused. ‘Why haven’t you said anything before?’
‘These are native oysters, growing wild. They’re more …
fragile. They need tender loving care,’ he laughs, and ridiculously I blush.
‘Anything could happen. Too much water and they will fatten and open, and then of course there are the thieves. This is why I don’t want anyone on my land,’ he says firmly.
‘I understand.’ I feel privileged to have been let in on the secret. ‘So this is where you come in your boat?’
He nods.
‘It’s why I wanted someone who knew nothing about oysters.
I didn’t want you to know what I was trying to do here.
But now … now this is the only thing that will save me.
I don’t want Nancy to know about them until I’m sure they’re going to make it.
I don’t want her lining up buyers before they’re ready, just in case.
Otherwise that will be her and my reputation down the pan for good.
I can’t let her or the customers down again. ’
‘Why can’t you let Nancy have them now, sell them, and pay back Jimmy Power?’
‘They’re spawning; it’s mating season. You can tell because the flesh is milky. They won’t finish until the end of August, and then they’ll need a rest from their parenting duties,’ he smiles. ‘But after that they’ll be ready to sell. Then I’ll need to get the best price I can for them.’
He suddenly peels off his waterproof top to reveal his wetsuit underneath, clinging tightly to his chest and arms. He must’ve put it on in the sheds earlier.
Then he peels off his waterproof trousers and is standing in front of me, the wetsuit clinging to his thighs and calves.
I try to look away but my eyes keep darting back to him, taking in his big shoulders, his flat stomach.
He moves to the side of the boat and then, very quickly, drops over the edge into the water.
The boat sways violently to and fro and I’m too scared to scream.
But then he’s back in the boat with oysters in his hand.
He pulls out a knife from a pocket on his bicep and puts it into the hinge of the oyster.
‘They’re different from the Pacific oysters you’ve been dealing with.
They’re rounder, flatter and harder to open,’ he says, screwing up his face as he twists the knife to pop off the top shell.
‘See, they’re spawning. This is why Pacific oysters are better for farmers.
They don’t spawn in our cold waters. See the milkiness I was telling you about?
That’s why you only eat native oysters when there’s an “r” in the month, when the waters are cold. ’
‘What’s spawning again?’ I’m trying to take it all in.
‘Making love … they’re breeding,’ he says, and tips up the oyster into his mouth then dives under again.
‘Why is no one else doing this round here?’ I ask when he comes up again.
‘The conditions have to be right. That stream, the mix of fresh water and sea water is what does it. It’s magic. And the most important thing …’ he holds one up to the sky. ‘These oysters mean the waters are clean in Dooleybridge, and that means everything.’
He shakes out his wet curls, splashing me, but I don‘t squeal this time. I’m fascinated. Something catches my eye and I realise the seals are following us. Sean opens another oyster.
‘Hey,’ he says, and pulls something small and round from the shell and holds it up.
‘A pearl!’ I shout. ‘Is it valuable?’ My spirits suddenly start to climb. This could be the answer to our problems.
He laughs and shakes his head. ‘Worthless,’ he holds it out to show me. ‘These aren’t pearl oysters.’
‘Shame,’ I say, and my spirits start to dip again. ‘Pretty, though.’ I look at the little misshapen pearl, shiny and iridescent.
We head back round the bay as the rain really starts to set in. It’s getting greyer and darker.
Sean helps me off the boat and with wobbling knees we walk back to the barn where we hose down the waterproofs and lifejackets.
The radio is playing and Sean turns up the volume while we finish up in the shed.
He’s in buoyant mood, as am I. I clean down the blackboard.
On the new spring tide we’ll have to grade all the bags that are left and start charting their progress again.
I dust the chalk off my hand. Time to do the animals and then a hot shower, supper and bed.
I switch off the radio and put away the broom.
‘So when exactly will they be ready to sell?’ I ask, still thinking about the carpet of oysters Sean’s shown me.
‘September. I just have to make sure they make it to September. If they don’t, it’s all over. No one must know.’
‘Fine by me,’ I say, and go to turn off the light and pull shut the shed doors.
‘No one must know what?’ says Nancy, standing with her car keys in hand.