Chapter Thirty-Two
‘So how did you end up in Dooleybridge?’ Dan’s shouting over the music.
‘Ah, long story. Let’s just say I was lost for a while.’ I swig on the bottle of lager. I’ve never drunk lager from a bottle before. It tastes really nice.
‘And now?’ He looks very serious, making me giggle. I think that could be down to the large amount of vodka and lager I’ve drunk.
‘And now, I’m not lost, just sort of stuck,’ I splutter, finding my own joke really funny. Dan seems to find it fairly amusing too. And to think I always thought I couldn’t find the right words. It’s amazing how the lager has just got them flowing.
Evelyn and Maire are jiving. John Joe’s sitting with Grandad, looking round the old barn.
Evelyn still hasn’t forgiven me, but she seems to have thawed a little ever since I put the flyers round for the festival bed and breakfast. She and John Joe are letting all three of their rooms and they’re going to camp in the garden for the duration of the festival.
Rosie is toasting marshmallows for her kids over an open fire and Patsy has arrived after shutting the pub with another carload of people I barely know – but what the heck, the more the merrier.
It’s a party! And I haven’t had a birthday party in …
ever, now I think about it. It was always meals out or takeaways with Brian.
And my mum certainly wasn’t one for cheese and pineapple on sticks and a bouncy castle.
I haven’t had so much fun in ages. Rosie is now wheeling Grandad around the barn in time to the music.
The people who arrived with Patsy have brought musical instruments.
The radio goes off and a fiddle starts playing, then a squeeze box and a drum join in.
This is fantastic! My feet are tapping away to the happy tune.
Dan pulls me up to dance and I find I want to join in, moving arms and legs around him as he dances in front of me. I don’t care what people think – this is fun!
‘Yip! Yip!’ People are clapping and calling.
‘Having fun?’ Margaret shouts above the music and puts another bottle in my hand.
‘Brilliant! Thank you!’ I hug her. The memory of the loan shark is still playing on my mind.
‘I’m so glad you were here tonight,’ I say to Dan, thinking about what might’ve happened.
He takes hold of my hand and pulls me closer.
Grace is being fed sausages and Freddie’s being led round with one of Rosie’s children on his back.
‘Tequila slammers!’ someone shouts, and Margaret and a few others cheer, and then I realise it’s me cheering. Patsy holds the tray and the little glasses are filled.
‘One, two, three …’ and I’m slinging another hot shot down my throat, making the dangers of the day disappear.
Suddenly there’s a shout from outside. Margaret turns and the music stops. I follow Margaret and Dan, hoping the loan shark isn’t back with reinforcements. But this time I’m ready for him. I grip my bottle. But it’s Frank, wielding his beer barrel. He’s standing in the shallows of the bay.
‘Oh God, Frank’s gone,’ says Patsy. ‘Stand back.’ He puts an arm in front of me.
‘What? What do you mean “gone”?’ I say, but it comes out a bit slurred.
‘Best leave him to it when he gets like this. He doesn’t know what he’s doing.’
I look at him as he throws his barrel effortlessly, high and far into the water with a huge splash, and then wades in deeper after it. I suddenly feel like someone’s dropped a bucket of cold water over me.
‘No, wait, he can’t go in there!’ I shout. He’s wading out deeper and deeper. ‘Frank, come back!’
‘Feck off. I’m going to Africa,’ he bellows, and surges forward.
I run down to the water’s edge and grab his arms, which he swings back, and I fall into the water. The barrel bobs around in the shallows like a shipwrecked boat before it sinks.
‘Frank, stop!’ I stand up, dripping. ‘Stop, stop! Get out of there! Dan, do something!’ I shout.
‘I’ll call the Garda, shall I?’ Dan reaches for his phone.
‘Stop!’
‘Let him to it. Best way. There’s no stopping him when he’s like this,’ Margaret says.
‘You can’t be serious! The oysters! He mustn’t go near the oysters!’ I’m beside myself, hands on my head. ‘Dan, do something!’
‘I thought they’d all been trashed. Hardly anything left,’ Margaret slurs.
‘Not those oysters. The other oysters,’ I cry desperately, then roll my lips together. I’m frowning so hard it hurts.
‘What other oysters?’ Margaret’s confused. ‘I wish Sean was here, I’d’ve shown him what he’s missing out on,’ she mumbles.
I have to save the oysters. I can’t let it happen again. I have to get help.
‘His wild oysters! The native thingy-me-bobs,’ I blurt out, the words tumbling out before I can stop them.
‘Wild oysters? Here in Dooleybridge?’ I hear someone say, and a ripple runs through the partygoers. ‘There hasn’t been wild oysters here in years.’
‘Feckin’ fantastic!’ says another voice.
‘Aye, brilliant news!’
‘Yes! Now please, you have to stop him!’ I point at Frank wading ever deeper.
‘Africa!’
But no one moves. There’s still an appreciation for the wild oysters in the air.
‘Yes, wild oysters!’ I confirm loudly. ‘Now Frank, get out of the fucking water!’ I shout.
I didn’t hear the engine noise, the van pull up or the door slam. But suddenly there’s a dark figure cutting through the crowd, running into the sea, creating a spray of water. Thank God for that.
‘Dan?’ I turn round. Dan is still trying to get reception for his phone.
There’s a muffled cry, a splash, a slap and a shout.
It can only mean one thing: Sean’s back.