Chapter Twenty-Six
‘So it’s official, we’re bringing back the oyster festival.
For real!’ Margaret is telling anyone who’ll listen from behind the bar.
‘It’s brilliant. I mean, that’s exactly what we need.
Fame, right here in Dooleybridge. I knew it would happen.
It said so in my horoscope today.’ She pulls out a well-thumbed copy of a magazine from under the bar.
The paper’s so thin it crackles as she turns to the page she knows off by heart.
She starts reading with dramatic projection.
‘Prepare for your world to take centre stage—’
‘Margaret,’ I interrupt her.
‘Oh hi! Dan’s on his way. He’s moved into Rosie’s chalet. Should be here any minute.’ She looks like she’s won the golden ticket. ‘My horoscope is just brilliant.’ She holds up the magazine again. Nancy gives an impatient little cough.
‘Oh, Margaret, this is Nancy Dubois.’ I swallow. ‘Sean’s—’
‘Oyster broker,’ Nancy finishes for me.
Margaret takes in Nancy in much the same way she did me when we first met. Her eyebrows arch.
‘He’ll be here any minute. I told him we wanted to talk,’ Margaret says.
Bang on cue the door swings back with its usual crash. Dan smiles and marches in with Mary Jo behind him.
‘Hey,’ Margaret gives him a wave. Nancy’s head spins round.
‘Dan Murphy? I’m Nancy Dubois, festival organiser,’ Nancy says with a smooth smile and flicks back her hair. Again Margaret’s eyebrows lift. Nancy’s hand shoots out to shake Dan’s.
‘Festival organiser? I hadn’t realised. I thought these two ladies were behind all this.’ Dan looks from me to Margaret and is probably wondering if we’re a bunch of screwballs.
‘I’m in charge of media,’ Margaret quickly appoints herself. ‘Unless you wanted to do that?’ she turns to me.
‘No, no, you go ahead. I’m happy doing the behind-the-scenes stuff.’
‘This festival will be a huge affair. We’re going to have restaurateurs and buyers from Dublin, Galway and France.
It’s going to be a very prestigious event and we’d love it if you’d open it.
Your family are from here, I gather …’ Nancy turns to me to confirm this and I nod quickly.
‘You’re the perfect choice.’ She smiles a stunning smile again, tinged with a little flirtation.
‘Happy to oblige,’ Dan says. Nancy turns triumphantly to Margaret and me, as if she’s just got him to agree to it herself, despite our hard work earlier. ‘I feel drawn to here. It’s in my blood. I’d be happy to help my homeland.’
I can see Margaret out of the corner of my eye. She’s putting a finger down her throat, making a gagging gesture behind their backs. I look away quickly, fighting to suppress the giggles.
‘We’ll organise some media stuff straightaway, get the festival launched, won’t we, Maureen?’ Nancy turns to Margaret who quickly stops making the gagging motion and pretends to be scratching her nose instead.
‘Yes, of course,’ she smiles. ‘And it’s Margaret,’ she corrects, but Nancy doesn’t seem to notice or, if she does, doesn’t care.
‘And you can judge the Pearl Queen competition,’ Margaret tells Dan. ‘That should get even more coverage.’
‘The what?’ Nancy looks irritated at Margaret’s interruption.
‘You know, like a beauty queen. Someone to be the beautiful face of the festival – no offence like, Dan, not that you’re not beautiful, but you need a glamorous girl on your arm,’ Margaret explains, making me smile.
‘If we must,’ Nancy barely gives it a thought.
‘Great,’ he grins. ‘And will you be entering, Fi?’ He turns to me and my cheeks instantly burn bright red.
‘Oh no, like I say, I’m strictly behind the scenes,’ I manage to say.
‘But I will,’ Margaret butts in.
‘Fi here will be organising the festival itself. If you have any questions, just ask her and she can ask me,’ Nancy tells Dan, and Dan nods appreciatively in my direction.
‘I’ll be heading home like we planned, tomorrow,’ Mary Jo says to me. ‘Need to get back to the office, and the family,’ she says with a slightly watery smile. ‘Lovely as it’s been, I can’t wait to get home. My little boy will be missing me. I can leave my husband home alone only so long.’
‘Yes, I need you to go and hold the fort. Tell the publishers I’m on to it, not to panic.
’ Dan pats Mary Jo on the shoulder. ‘I’ll have the book ready to tie in with the new TV series.
’ I’m staring at Mary Jo and realise I’m pushing down my feelings of envy.
She’s getting on a plane and going back to her home, family and friends.
I wonder if I’ll ever have half of what she’s got.
I know that’s why I’ve got to stay and throw myself into this, until these feelings go away.
A sharp nudge in the ribs brings me back to earth.
‘So? It’s going to be just like it used to be?’ Rosie asks. ‘Grandad can tell you everything you need to know.’ She points her Bacardi Breezer at him. Grandad sits up straight in his wheelchair.
‘When I was a boy you couldn’t move for oysters here. Native oysters …’ He’s spreading out his fingers, seeing the beds in front of him.
‘Not now, Grandad,’ chorus the group that’s gathered around us.
‘Excuse me,’ Nancy says over their chatter, ‘this is supposed to be a private meeting.’ For a moment no one says anything. Then Frank laughs, showing his missing front tooth. ‘No such thing round here,’ he says, and the others chuckle in agreement.
‘This is going to be a professional affair. Obviously we’ll need waiters and waitresses, cloakroom staff, that kind of thing.
But it’ll be a dinner and dance. I’ll be bringing in a chef from my new restaurant and I’ll be organising the oysters, obviously.
A seafood extravaganza!’ Nancy announces and stands up to leave.
She smooths down her dress and puts out a strong hand for Dan to shake.
‘Great to have you on board, Dan. Fi will sort you out from here. If you need anything, just call her.’
‘I will,’ he says with a wink.
Then Nancy flicks out any hair that has caught under her handbag strap on her shoulder and we watch as she sweeps out of the pub into the rain.
‘How do you think it’s going down with the rest of the locals?’ I say quietly to Margaret.
Margaret looks around and rocks her hand from side to side. ‘Excited, I think. Like you say, time to forgive and forget.’
I look around. I’m desperately trying to see any trace of excitement.
Seamus and Padraig are finishing their pints and Seamus pulls out a wad of notes from inside his jacket pocket. They’re chuckling and then look straight at me.
‘No Sean tonight?’ Seamus asks.
‘No, he’s at the farm in case the oyster pirates come back,’ I say, narrowing my eyes.
‘Shame, would’ve liked to buy him a pint. Had a little windfall,’ Seamus chuckles a tobacco-filled rattle and Padraig joins him. I feel my hackles rise.
‘So, that’s settled then, Fi,’ Margaret interrupts my thoughts. ‘You’ll organise the venue, I’m doing marketing, and Dan, you’ll do a publicity launch. Oh, it’s going to be fabulous. I can’t wait!’ Her face is glowing like a child’s on Christmas Eve.
‘Only trouble is, I need to contact suppliers and things. There’s no reception up at the farm. How are we going to organise a festival without internet access?’ I look at Margaret.
‘And I have emails I need to send,’ Dan says.
‘Gerald’s café! Let’s call it Festival HQ! Keep it local.’ Margaret goes back behind the bar to serve Seamus and Padraig. I can’t help but look at them. If they did take the oysters I can’t let them get away with it. But what can I do?
‘Sounds like there won’t be anything local about it,’ says Seamus gruffly.
‘A bunch of blow-ins telling us locals how to do the festival,’ Padraig sniffs. ‘That Sean Thornton and his French partner and his English assistant. Nothing local there,’ he says loudly to Seamus.
‘Hey, I’m doing it and my family’s lived here for … ever!’ Margaret puts her hands on her hips and Grandad agrees angrily. ‘And so’s Dan. He’s a Murphy. Murphys have always lived here.’
Seamus and Padraig shake their heads. They’re not going to be persuaded.
‘It’ll be great to get the media back to Dooleybridge. Show them what we’re made of,’ Margaret gives out to them loudly.
I can’t help but wonder exactly what it is that Margaret thinks Dooleybridge is made of.
Seamus and Padraig are right; it’s going to be a marquee on the GAA pitch.
Customers will turn up, eat, maybe stay overnight and then leave again, with luck having ordered lots of Sean’s oysters.
But apart from that I can’t really join in Margaret’s enthusiasm and see how it will turn Dooleybridge into some kind of oyster lovers’ Mecca.
Not when they have County Clare on the other side of the bay.
But one thing’s for sure, I’m going to give it a damn good try; I owe Sean that at least. And what’s more, I’m determined to prove Seamus and Padraig wrong.
‘So, can I put you two down for car parking duties?’ I hold up my pad and pen. They practically spit their beer out with laughter and I squirm with embarrassment.
‘No you can’t,’ Padraig answers flatly.
‘How about you, Seamus?’ I persist, despite feeling a right fool.
‘Not for me.’ He shakes his head. ‘Surprised you have time to do all this, what with your boss being away so much. Must be lonely up there on that farm on your own,’ he says, as though I won’t work out what he’s implying. But I have. I just haven’t worked out how to prove it yet.
‘It’s fine,’ I reply quickly. I am so going to make them laugh on the other sides of their faces.
‘What about you, Evelyn, John Joe? Could you help at the oyster festival?’ I hold my pen over my pad. ‘Cloakroom?’
Evelyn thinks for a minute. ‘I could make some scones if you like,’ she says with a sniff.
‘Ah, OK, well, thanks for that, Evelyn. I’ll get back to you once the chef has told us his menu,’ I say, wondering how on earth I’m going to let her down gently.
I don’t dare turn to look at Margaret or I’d giggle again.
But really it isn’t funny. Unless I can rustle up some interest, this event will be dead in the water before we’ve even started.