Chapter Fourteen
It isn’t just the permanent rain that’s making the atmosphere in the cottage frosty.
All the papers were tidied away by the time Sean got back the following day, and I’ve even created a filing system of sorts from boxes that I found in Rosie’s shop.
But Sean’s still marching around complaining he can’t find anything and I’m silently fuming that he hasn’t even said thank you.
This next week promises a spring tide and Sean’s back working on the farm. There’s just two weeks until the inspection; until I can take what little money I’ve earned and leave.
We work practically in silence, only speaking when we need to.
There’s no idle chit-chat, though Sean didn’t really do chit-chat in the first place.
I still can’t bring myself to be much use in the water, but I do work like stink when it comes to washing and grading the oysters.
I’m also a demon with the hosepipe, washing down the sheds.
The harder I work in the day, the easier it is to sleep at night.
And the harder I work, the more distance I seem to be putting between me and Brian. Physical exhaustion numbs the pain.
It’s the end of my fourth week on the farm and the night before the inspection.
I feel like I’ve scrubbed everything in sight and that I’ve had a hosepipe permanently welded to my right hand.
I ache from the very top of my head to the tips of my toes.
Even my earlobes ache from the cold. I’m wet and my cheeks are red from the wind and rain.
I have never been so happy to see the inside of the cottage.
I peel off my waterproofs and Sean does the same.
We don’t speak. There is a strange solidarity in our weariness though.
‘Let’s eat,’ Sean says, hanging his waterproofs by the door.
He puts a bag of oysters on the table with a clatter and then heads to the kitchen.
‘You did well today, English,’ he says with his head inside the fridge, so I nearly miss it.
He surprises me and I smile. At least we’re going to part on friendly terms by the sounds of it.
‘You take the bathroom first if you like, I’ll get some food on the go.
’ He pulls out some carrots, celery, an onion and a large white chipped pie dish.
I’d like to be polite and offer him first go in the bathroom or suggest I cook, but my freezing joints won’t let me. If it was left to me tonight it would be a couple of slices of toast and bed.
‘We need an early night. Big day tomorrow,’ he says with the tiniest of winks, and I get the most stupid flush of embarrassment. He puts his hand in the red sack of oysters, pulls one out, taps it, then puts his knife in and opens it.
‘Quality control,’ he says with a smile, holding it to his nose. He sniffs, puts the shell to his lips and tips his head back.
‘Whoa,’ he says, looking like an addict who’s just had his fix. He offers one to me. ‘Sure?’ But I shake my head. I just can’t see the pleasure.
‘I’m going to grab that shower if you don’t mind.’ I’m still holding up my hand to refuse the oyster. I shan’t be sorry if I never see another oyster again after this month.
‘You go ahead. I’ll rustle up some food. Like I say, you’ve done well, English.’ He opens another oyster and tips his head back again. A silly shiver of excitement runs through me.
‘Hey, English,’ he calls me back as I’m heading to the bathroom. ‘I’m, er … I’m sorry about … before. I’ve been meaning to say, y’know, the other week, with the desk. I shouldn’t have shouted. You did a great job. I’m just not used to, y’know, sharing my private stuff.’
A smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. So it wasn’t all a waste of time then. I feel like a peacock, proudly puffing myself up. Then I have no idea what makes me boldly ask, ‘Does Nancy know?’ I’m talking about his money problems, of course, but I don’t need to spell it out.
He stops opening oysters for a moment. I tense up, wishing I hadn’t asked. I want the words to go back where they came from. But when he simply shakes his head I find myself breathing again.
‘I just need to get through tomorrow. That lot waiting to go to market,’ he nods in the direction of the bagged and prepared oysters, ‘will pay the licence and get me some more spat. Then I can start sorting out some of the other bills.’ He smiles and grabs a tin of Guinness from the fridge and cracks it open.
‘Once tomorrow’s out the way I can start moving forward. It’ll be fine. You go and shower.’
I don’t need telling twice and disappear to the bathroom. I turn the shower on full whack and wait for it to heat up.
Suddenly there’s music playing loudly on the kitchen radio. I can hear Sean singing along. He obviously feels life is on the up. I step tentatively into the shower. Maybe it’s time things got better for both of us. I smile. There’s warm water for starters.
When I’m warm and clean I switch off the shower and step out onto the wooden bath mat on the floor.
There are lots of towels spilling over the towel rail.
I do something I’ve wanted to do since I got here and pull them all off.
Then I fold and straighten them with a little feeling of satisfaction.
You never know, the inspector might need to come in here too.
I can still hear Sean’s music blaring out and realise I’m nodding along to it myself.
The water drips off me. It feels like tomorrow is going to be a new start for both of us.
Outside the rain has stopped. The sun is attempting to finally show me how pretty it can be, throwing a yellow pathway down to the sea, a bit like Dorothy’s yellow brick road.
If only I had a pair of ruby slippers! A soft, blurry rainbow reaches across the bay.
I take watery steps towards my towel on the tidy rail and then hold it to my face.
It smells of washing powder and peat smoke.
But not like my washing powder at home. It smells soapier and not so floral.
Brian liked the one with ylang-ylang in it.
I walk to the sink, naked, and look in the mirror.
A lot has changed in four weeks. The way I look for starters.
Thinner. More tired. But there’s colour in my cheeks.
In fact my face looks quite healthy. My neat bob is curling at the ends.
I stand on tiptoes to see more of myself.
I’m still hippy but I’ve lost weight off my chest. Brian and I didn’t spend much time naked.
We took it in turns in the bathroom and sex was a lights-off, under-the-covers affair.
I look at myself again and I wonder if he ever really loved me.
Or was I always just a decoy, throwing people off the scent?
I don’t expect I’ll ever know now. But at least that explains him never wanting to see me naked.
I start to dry myself. My rings slip around my fingers.
I slide them off for the first time since I said ‘I do’ and Brian said ‘Sorry, I can’t’ after signing the register.
I hold them in my hand. It’s time to move on.
And these rings are my ticket out of here.
I turn them over in my hand and then clench them tightly.
It’s the end of my trial period. Tomorrow Sean will be through his inspection.
I’m going to sell them and move on, even if it’s just to my mother’s lumpy sofa in Malta.
Although I’m not sure her current boyfriend will be too happy to see me and I definitely won’t be calling him Uncle.
Especially when I gather we’re very close in age.
Just thinking about it makes me feel like I’ve stepped in cold custard.
But I don’t know where else to go. I may not like my mother or the way my teenage years panned out, but she is the only relative I have.
All I have to do now is tell Sean. I know we’ll never keep in touch, but he wasn’t so bad.
I can say that now I won’t have to work for him again.
Like I say, with luck we’ll part as friends.
The floor’s cold and my bones still ache. At least it should be hot in Malta. I turn back to the sink to do my teeth and just as I’m reaching for the Colgate on the window sill, a dark shadow falls across my hand. I freeze.