Chapter Twenty-Four
‘You suggested doing what?’ Sean’s face drops. I’ve rushed through my morning jobs to tell him my news. He’s leaning against the kitchen cupboard. Nancy is putting on her boots.
‘I suggested we bring back the oyster festival. It’s the obvious answer. You can sell oysters on the day and use it as a platform to get big buyers.’
‘Forget it. It’s a ridiculous idea. A village fête, that’s all it is,’ Nancy interrupts while pulling on her left boot.
‘But this way the whole town will be involved and Sean’s oysters will be the main talking point.’
‘I don’t know,’ Sean shakes his head. ‘There’s a lot of history …’
‘But it’s the perfect way to put the past behind you. Prove to them all that your uncle was right all along. The waters here in Dooleybridge are clean.’
For a moment he says nothing.
‘It’s fine the way things are. Sean doesn’t need to prove anything to anyone round here.
I do the selling. Everyone’s happy. I will be taking all native oysters for my restaurant.
It’s all sorted. They are exactly what I need to get the New Restaurant of the Year award.
’ Nancy stands up and pulls herself up to her full height.
I turn to Sean, which means turning away from Nancy.
‘And there’s this American TV chef, Dan Murphy. We want to get him to be the face of the festival. He’s over here researching his family history.’
‘Did you say Murphy?’ Sean visibly stiffens.
‘Dan Murphy?’ Nancy suddenly looks interested. ‘He’s going to launch this festival?’
‘We’d like him to. He was the guy looking in the window the other night. He wanted to take photographs. He wasn’t responsible for the oyster raid,’ I tell Sean.
‘Hang on a minute. If you have a TV chef involved, this might work. It could be a great opportunity to launch the restaurant. With a celeb on board and true native Galway oysters on the menu, it could make all the difference to The Pearl.’ Nancy’s eyes are dancing like she’s on something.
Sean shakes his head. ‘People won’t come,’ he says.
‘Leave it to me,’ Nancy says, and Sean puts his cup in the sink.
‘This is why I didn’t tell you,’ he says quietly, and walks out.
Nancy turns to me. ‘You can help me, but don’t do anything unless you run it by me first. I need to meet this Dan Murphy and tell him what I need from him. In fact, you’d better come with me and introduce me. Set up a meeting for Thursday. Evening. I can’t believe I didn’t think of this before.’
You didn’t, I think, but don’t say so. In fact, Nancy’s involvement suits me fine.
I don’t want to be in charge. I’m more than happy to let her be at the helm.
If it helps Sean get his oysters sold then I’m all for it one way or another.
So I smile and say, ‘Of course.’ Out of the window I can see Sean is gathering ropes and planning to tow the tractor from its watery grave. ‘I have to get on,’ I tell her.
‘Fine. I have to meet the decorators at the restaurant. I’ll pick you up Thursday, about eight,’ she says bossily, then scoops up her big handbag, swings her hair and swoops out. She waves to Sean. I pull on my waterproofs and go down to meet him at the water’s edge.
‘Grab this rope. We’ll pull this thing out before I go to work.’
The water seems darker than usual, the drizzle wetter and colder.
There’s no small talk as we finally pull the dripping tractor out of the deep, dark sand.
I thought Sean was going to be thrilled with my plan for the oyster festival, but I get the impression he’s not happy with the idea, not happy at all.
The next couple of days pass in the same way. Sean only speaks when he needs to; otherwise, when he’s not at the sailing school, he’s got his head stuck under the tractor bonnet.
By Thursday I can’t stand the silence a moment longer. I make a coffee and open the back door. The wind and drizzle hit me in the face and I know the coffee’s going to be cold by the time I get it down to the tractor. I pull my coat round me.
‘I made you this,’ I say to Sean, who barely acknowledges me.
Right, that’s it! ‘Look, if you want me to cancel the oyster festival I will,’ I say with all the boldness I can muster, which isn’t a lot, and it comes out as a bit of a squeak if I’m honest. But I’ve said it.
I can’t live like this and if it means cancelling the festival then so be it.
He stands up, his hair flopping round his face. He uses his forearm to push it back but it keeps falling into his eyes. He spots the coffee.
‘Thanks.’ He takes a sip and pulls a face.
‘Cold?’
He nods and gives a little laugh. It’s the closest he’s come to talking to me since the mention of the festival.
‘Did you mean what you said?’ He takes another sip of the cold coffee.
‘Yes,’ I say, my nerves subsiding. ‘If you hate the idea of it, I’ll tell Nancy we’re cancelling it. Tell her it was a ridiculous idea.’
He raises his eyebrows and works at cleaning his dirty hands. ‘I don’t think Nancy would agree with you. In fact, I’d say she’s pretty set on the idea now.’
The thought of trying to stop the force that is Nancy fills me with dread. ‘Look, maybe I should’ve talked it over with you fir—’
‘Yes,’ he cuts across the end of my sentence, ‘you should’ve.’ He throws the rag onto the bonnet. ‘Start her up, will you?’ He nods to the tractor seat. ‘You can remember how to start her up, can’t you?’
‘Yes,’ I say, like a teenager back-chatting a parent. Why can’t he just say he hates the idea and doesn’t want anything to do with it? I climb into the tractor seat. God, he can be so irritating at times.
‘I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you first. I just thought it was a great way of getting the oysters sold and getting a really good platform for them. I thought I was helping.’ I check the tractor’s not in gear and that the accelerator isn’t stuck down by pulling it towards me with the toe of my welly.
Sean is looking at me, deep in thought. ‘There’s a lot of history.’ He throws the cloth down angrily.
For a moment I think about saying nothing else, but my mouth seems to be working independently from my brain.
‘And this is the way to put it right, for your uncle. If you have native oysters here, your waters are clean. Everyone should know.’ I want to put everything right, but Sean is just so bloody hard to help.
‘Start her up,’ he says, picking up the oily rag again. Frustration is building inside me; he may not like the idea but he doesn’t need to sulk. The engine turns over, but only just.
Sean used the engine noise to block out the conversation.
He was finding this really hard. The memories kept flooding back to him.
His uncle had died thinking everything he cared about, everything he’d worked for, had been a failure.
But it wasn’t just that. It was all the other memories it had brought back, about his arrival here in Dooleybridge.
He’d arrived a week after being released from prison, but only days after being released from hospital.
He’d come back alone, and that was never how it was supposed to be.
He and Emily had talked about coming back here together one day, once they’d seen the world.
But they hadn’t seen the world and he’d come back alone, arriving in the village just before the festival.
The locals had put two and two together and come up with seventeen.
It had all come flooding back to him and he didn’t seem to be able to find the words to explain.
Fi was doing her best. He wanted to tell her but he found it so hard.
Nancy knew, of course, but never mentioned it.
‘Try again,’ he called to her.
Rrrrrrr, Rrrrrrrr, Rrrrrrrr. The engine groaned.
‘Ah, come on!’ he shouted at the tractor, and banged at the bonnet with his fist. Without the tractor he couldn’t even work with the few oyster bags he had left.
He turned away and wiped his damp curls from his eyes with the crook of his elbow.
He looked at the sea, grey and moody. The thing was, he realised, as painful as it was to remember, he needed Nancy’s restaurant to take off in order to sell the oysters.
If he didn’t let this go ahead now, what the hell else was he going to do?
‘Try once more,’ I shout to him. I can see he’s frustrated. The accelerator seems to be working much more freely now. I wiggle it up and down again with the toe of my welly. He turns back to me as if he’s got the weight of the world on his shoulders.
‘I don’t think it’s going to work,’ he shakes his head as he turns to me.
‘We can’t just stop trying,’ I say. ‘We don’t have any other choice.’
He looks at me for a moment and I wonder if he’s going to explode, but his face suddenly changes expression, as if all the air has been let out of a balloon about to burst.
‘OK,’ he says, suddenly very calm. He turns back to the engine and pulls a face as he works away.
‘Now!’ he shouts, and I turn the key and stand on the accelerator.
Suddenly the tractor roars into life, sputtering and gasping as if it’s been electrocuted. Sean takes a couple of steps back. He gives me a satisfied nod and the engine settles down into a rhythmic hum.
I stand up and jump down from the tractor.
‘Good work, English,’ he says. ‘You’re a trier, I’ll give you that.’
I feel myself swell with pride. I turn to go back to the cottage. I may have been able to persuade him to keep going with the tractor, but it doesn’t look as if I’ll be able to do the same about the festival. I can’t keep going with it if he hates the idea.
‘English! About this oyster festival …’ He stops me in my tracks. I turn round slowly. I have no idea how I’m going to tell Nancy and Margaret that we have to cancel it. I decide to make one last attempt to persuade him.
‘It’s a great opportunity to put your oysters back on the map, put Dooleybridge back on the map.’ I try my best.
For a moment he says nothing. Then, slowly and quietly, he says, ‘Providing we’ve got oysters to sell.’ He raises an eyebrow. ‘I’m just not happy with us setting this whole thing up and for there to be no oysters. It’ll be like a public hanging.’
‘You’re the best oyster farmer around here. It has to be worth the risk, doesn’t it?’
Again he says nothing, just slams down the lid of his toolbox and starts to make his way towards the barn. As he passes me he says, ‘Looks like I don’t have much choice.’
Is he saying what I think he’s saying?
‘So you think it’s a good idea?’ I suddenly feel very relieved.
‘No, I’m not saying I think it’s a good idea.’
My lifted spirits plummet like a bungee jump from a high building.
‘I’m saying, just make sure it isn’t a total fuck-up. I can’t afford for anything to go wrong.’
He marches back to the shed and I follow. At least he’s stopped sulking and is talking again.