Chapter Thirty-Nine
My happy bubble is burst. In its place, guilt is pouring in. But I remind myself that I’m not the only one with a secret around here now. And more than ever I need to tell Sean about Nancy’s betrayal.
‘Well, well. Out on the boat? I thought you didn’t “do” water.’ Nancy is tapping an envelope with her bright red acrylic nails as I walk up the bank towards the cottage.
‘There are a lot of things I didn’t used to “do”,’ I say, and I just don’t recognise my own confident voice.
I keep walking, my fingers holding the little pearl necklace round my neck.
I leave her standing on the shore, partly because I feel so guilty and partly because I don’t want to see them together.
I go into the cottage, and although it’s still quite warm outside, I put turf on the fire.
I hear Nancy and Sean approaching. They appear to be having words.
I tense up and decide to head straight for the shower.
I don’t want this lovely feeling that’s still glowing away inside me to leave just yet.
‘Ah, Fi,’ Nancy catches me on the way to the bathroom. I don’t want a confrontation but if it comes to it, I’ll say here and now what I heard her saying on the phone; how she’s cutting Sean out of the oyster deal.
‘This came for you while you were having your … sailing lesson.’ She smiles tightly and holds out a cream envelope.
That puts me on the back foot. I frown. I haven’t received any post in nearly three months. No one knows I’m here.
‘Well, I’m guessing it’s for you.’ She’s still holding it out to me and I have no option but to take it from her, like the poisoned chalice or maybe even the black spot.
I look down. I recognise the handwriting straightaway, and the humiliation and shame I felt when I first arrived here comes flooding back.
‘It says “For Fiona Goodchild”,’ Sean’s looking over my shoulder and I can feel his breath on my neck and want to melt into the same pool of passion I’ve just stepped out of.
‘“Dooleybridge Oyster Festival”,’ he reads aloud.
‘Looks important.’ Sean puts his arm around me to take the letter.
I turn to look at him and he returns my look.
It seems we’re there for just a second or two longer than we should be and I find it hard to tear myself away, him with his arm around me and his hand on the letter, his breath on my neck.
But I must and I do, furious with myself as I feel my cheeks starting to flush, giving me away.
Nancy tilts her head slightly and narrows her eyes. I know she’s seen something in that look and she knows I know that.
‘By the way, Fi,’ she finally says. My stomach tightens. ‘Dan was asking after you in the pub today. Says he hasn’t seen you for a while. I said you’d be at the Pearl Queen selection party,’ she smiles sweetly, too sweetly.
‘Well, I’ll be there helping out,’ I bluster.
‘I think he was hoping for a date. You haven’t been stringing him along, have you?’ Nancy says mischievously, and tuts. ‘No one likes a tease,’ and she snakes her arm around Sean’s shoulders.
My throat goes dry. ‘No.’ This is too uncomfortable for words. ‘It’ll be lovely, I’m sure,’ I find myself saying, as if it’s going to throw her off the scent.
‘Good,’ she claps her hands together, ‘I love matchmaking.’ Her eyes sparkle, but not with pixie dust, more like poison.
She’s marking my card. Sean pulls away from Nancy, suddenly looking thunderous.
Nancy looks like a cat whose mouse has got away and is determined to get it back.
Sean’s obviously regretting what just happened.
Maybe it was nothing more than a moment of madness, a wonderful moment of madness.
‘I’ll take that. I’ll sort it out.’ I take the envelope from Sean and shove it in my back pocket. Sean tuts and goes to put on his boots by the door.
‘Someone you know?’ Nancy is keeping her eyes on me.
‘Someone I used to know, more like,’ I say quietly. Nancy looks in Sean’s direction. He opens the door and Grace rushes out.
‘Looks like someone’s keeping secrets,’ she says loudly and cattily.
‘Maybe I’m not the only one with a secret,’ I say quietly back, out of Sean’s earshot.
‘Just when were you planning to tell Sean about your deal with Henri?’ We hold each other’s glare.
I pull away and slip off to my room and push the letter into the drawer by my bed.
There is no way I can face whatever it is that Brian has to say right now.
I don’t want to think about it. My cheeks burn with humiliation.
I don’t need to be reminded of what a fool I feel.
Even in such a small cottage it’s amazing how Sean and I manage to avoid each other for the next week.
Sean has taken over the farmers’ markets again and is back giving lessons at the sailing school.
He says it frees me up to get the Pearl Queen night ready with Margaret, but I think he just doesn’t want to be anywhere near me.
We’re holding the competition in the library, where we can push back the bookshelves like they do on court days.
Dan’s hosting it from the podium used by the magistrate and the contestants will walk up the middle of the room.
They’ll use the space behind the bookshelves at the back as a green room.
I’m baking up a storm in the cottage kitchen: sausage rolls, mini pasties, ham sandwiches, and tuna and cheese puffs.
A car horn beeps on the drive and I run to my bedroom and look out of the window.
Margaret’s getting out of the car, holding her coat around her against the wind.
I can see her looking around for signs of Sean.
Once again that guilt takes hold of me. How could I go from feeling so positive about life to feeling this low again?
I take down the dress that Maire’s altered for me from my wardrobe door. In return I’ve made another delivery of oyster shells to the art shop. Then I go to the kitchen and pick up the trays of sausage rolls. I open the front door and Margaret sails in on a gust of wind and excitement.
‘Oh, wow, you’ve done an amazing job here,’ she says, slipping a sausage roll into her mouth. ‘I can do your make-up again tonight, if you like.’
‘D’you know, I think I might have a go at it myself tonight,’ I say as we head to the door.
‘Cool,’ she says, still chewing on the sausage roll. ‘Use my stuff, whatever you want.’
‘Thank you.’ I want to tell her what a good friend she’s been and what a crap one I’ve been. But I can’t.
‘Are you OK, Fi?’ she asks before we head to the car.
‘Yes, fine,’ I say, checking on Grace and keeping my blushes to myself.
‘You seem … different,’ says Margaret, helping herself to another sausage roll.
‘No, don’t be daft, I’m grand,’ I say, realising I’ve slipped into local-speak.
‘Hey, is there something you’re not telling me?’ She’s expanding further with hot air and excitement by the minute.
‘No, there’s not, nothing, really … Now, come on,’ I usher her out, our arms full of bite-sized morsels. ‘And don’t eat any more on the way!’ I say bossily, deflecting attention from my guilty secret. Margaret keeps looking sideways at me all the way to the library.
I’m clearing down the last remaining books from the librarian’s desk and arranging the sausage rolls and tuna puffs on it. Rosie and Lily are going to do teas and coffees.
‘I’ve got it!’ Margaret shouts.
‘I wonder if we should’ve offered a bar,’ I say, looking at the table of food. Margaret waves away my worries.
‘They can have a drink afterwards. Otherwise they’ll be up and down to the bar and we’ll never get the important business done. The festival is only a week away and we need to crown a Pearl Queen. Anyway, are you listening? I said I’d got it!’
‘Got what?’ I look around her. Raffle tickets, money box, microphone. I can’t think of anything we’ve missed.
‘It’s Dan!’ she beams. I look round. I hadn’t seen anyone come in.
‘Where?’
‘Not here. But it is, isn’t it?’ She’s grinning and clutching a poster for the event to her chest, sellotape in each of the corners.
‘Sorry, Margaret, what are you talking about?’ The poster’s stuck to her. I peel it away.
‘You and him.’ She rolls her eyes from side to side. ‘You finally got it on!’ she announces, and my mouth drops open, just as the door blows itself open, sending the poster up into my face.
‘I knew it,’ Margaret mouths as she grabs the poster back off me and slides off to put it up outside. I have no idea where to go with this. Do I keep denying it or do I let her think it’s Dan? Maybe then that’ll be an end to it.
As we head back to the pub to get changed, Margaret links her arm through mine, chuffed to bits that she thinks she’s found out who’s put the glint in my eye. Wickedly, I decide not to dissuade her. Not for the time being anyway.
‘It was just a one-off,’ I say, as she tries to quiz me some more, swallowing hard and trying to get rid of the bitter taste of lies from my mouth.
‘I think it’s lovely.’ Margaret has a soft, dreamy look on her face as she takes down her dress from the back of her bedroom door. ‘I just hope Sean decides to finally have a moment of madness with me.’
I am cringing inside.
‘Just going to use the bathroom.’ I stand up, grabbing my own dress and taking it with me.
I slide my altered wedding dress down over my hips and it hugs me in all the right places. It feels perfect, not like before. Before, this dress made me feel like someone I wasn’t. Now it feels like me. Shorter, simpler, stripped of all the unnecessary trimmings. I love it.