Chapter Forty-One
When I reach the chalet in Rosie’s garden I knock loudly.
Dan opens the door looking surprised.
I dive straight in. ‘Dan, hi, look, about the job, the one you were telling me about the other week. I know it’s a long shot, but I was wondering if there was any chance it was still free?’
He stares at me blankly. I try to slow down a bit.
‘Dan, I’ve come about the job. Have you found someone, in Boston? If not, I’m your woman. I can leave now,’ I gabble. His face lights up.
‘This could be perfect!’ he exclaims. Then his face drops to a frown again. ‘What about you and Sean? I thought you were still working with him.’
‘I just think it’s time I moved on.’ I muster a smile from somewhere, but find I’m swinging my arms to and fro nervously and knock over a lamp which we both try and catch.
‘You think we can work together?’ Dan asks.
‘Absolutely!’ I say, neither of us letting go of the lamp. ‘I think we’d make a great team …’
He looks at me. ‘There’s just one thing,’ he says cautiously. ‘I may have misled you, given you mixed signals. I may have suggested there was more on offer than a job.’
‘Oh no, I …’ The elephant in the room just got bigger.
‘But the thing is, I’m sort of … involved with someone now,’ he says slowly.
I hold my hands up. I’ve heard enough.
‘Dan, I want a job. One as far away from here as possible. I want to work for you, I definitely don’t want to sleep with you,’ I say.
‘That’s what you said before, remember?’ A voice cuts across us and then she appears from the bedroom wearing nothing but one of Dan’s T-shirts.
‘Oh my God! Margaret!’
She can’t help but grin from ear to ear as Dan pulls her to him and kisses the top her head.
‘Margaret, what I did was unforgivable. And if it’s any consolation I am hurting now more than I ever thought possible. I was a fool to myself and to you.’
‘Well, he was pretty fanciable.’ Margaret looks up at Dan. ‘But I think you did me a favour.’ She breaks into a broad smile and I hug her and then him.
‘So, about the job?’ Dan breaks up the hug. ‘It’s yours if you want it. I still have more business here in Ireland,’ he looks at Margaret, ‘so I can’t leave yet. But it would be great to know the office is in safe hands. You can leave straightaway?’
I nod, more than I need to.
‘But what about the festival?’ Margaret suddenly looks horrified. ‘It’s tomorrow!’
‘It’s all organised. I’d only be doing coat duty and I just don’t think I can watch the happy couple any more.’
Margaret’s eyes fill up and she hugs me.
‘I have to go,’ I say, but choke. I feel her nod as we hug again. She understands.
‘You are the best friend I have ever had,’ I tell her as the tears roll down my cheeks.
‘Ditto,’ she says.
Back at the farm, Sean is just closing up the shed.
The oyster bags are all laid out on the mended trestle tables, which I destroyed all those months ago.
They’re ready for tomorrow. Further down the bay the dark clouds are rolling in.
Even Grace looks like she’s lost a chicken leg and found a wishbone.
She’s lying with her head between her paws, like she knows everything is about to change.
‘High tide tonight,’ Sean says.
‘Hadn’t you better go and get ready? Nancy’ll be wondering where you are. It’s your engagement party after all.’
‘Fi, about that …’ he says.
‘I think we’ve said all that needs to be said.
This place means the world to you. You have to hang on to it and Nancy’s your best bet for that,’ I say, and a few more tears roll down my cheeks.
I swipe them away. ‘I’m leaving, Sean. It’s time for me to move on.
I’ve paid my debt.’ Still the tears roll.
He steps closer to me. ‘You could stay. If this goes well tomorrow and we sell the oysters, there’s plenty of work for you, you don’t have to go.’
‘I think we both know that I do.’ I wipe away the tears and try not to sniff. ‘Just … watch yourself. Look after you. Don’t get hurt trying to hang on to something you love.’ He frowns. He looks like he’s going to say something, but I don’t want to hear it.
‘You have to go,’ I hurry him along.
‘Look, let’s sleep on it. We can work it out. See you tomorrow, yeah?’ he says.
‘Yeah,’ I say, knowing that I won’t. There’s nothing else to talk about.
I’ll be gone by dawn, it’s all arranged.
David, the postman who doubles up as the hackney driver, is picking me up.
Soon I’ll be taking ‘cabs’, not ‘taxis’ or ‘hackneys’.
My flight’s booked. This time tomorrow, while the oysters are being served, I’ll be on my way to my new life in the States.
‘Are you going to the festival? The shucking competition?’ I ask.
‘No, I don’t feel part of this place. Maybe I never will. But at least now I can show them my uncle was right, these waters are clean. The cleanest. We have the oysters to show for it.’ He breathes in. Nancy was right. This place means everything to him and he’d never risk that.
‘Right, see you tomorrow.’
The rain hits my window and slides down it like tears.
I pull out a large black bag. This takes me right back to when I was growing up.
My mum would come home, produce a roll of value bin bags, and I’d know we were on the move again.
At least this time I know where I’m going, well, on paper anyway.
Dan has organised an apartment for me. Mary Jo is meeting me at the airport and taking me out to dinner.
Then there’s a week’s handover and my new life will begin.
It’s everything I could want, an office job dealing with all Dan’s engagements, his public appearances, his book publications, and all his media work.
I’ll be doing what I do best, working behind the scenes.
It’s what I did for Brian and I know I can do it for Dan.
I fold the work clothes I’ve lived in: the cut-off jeans that became shorts, the joggers Sean found for me and the rest of the eclectic mix of clothes I’ve gathered since I’ve been here.
I fold away the wedding dress that Maire altered. I doubt I’ll wear it again.
Once I get to Boston, Dan’s going to give me an advance to help get me settled.
I’ll go shopping and buy some work clothes.
I wonder what kind of shops there will be?
Big department stores, all bright lights and fragrance in the air.
I try and smile to myself; it’s a long way from Dooleybridge, Gerald’s café and Rosie’s petrol station.
Back to being in a city again where everything is to hand: shops, theatres, cinemas and cafés.
The wind is picking up outside. I hope it doesn’t rain too much and make the lane difficult to get down. I’ll walk to the end of it to get the hackney, I decide. He’s due at six tomorrow morning. I doubt I’ll sleep at all tonight.
The wind outside is picking up and I go to the front door to check how bad it is. Grace comes with me as she usually does. I’m going to miss her so much. Maybe one day, when I’m settled, I’ll be able to have a house and a dog of my own. I rub her head as I look at the waves starting to roll in.
I go back into the cottage, stoke the pot-bellied stove with turf.
There have been so many things I’ve done that I never thought I’d do: the sailing, the market stalls, the oyster eating.
The butterflies rush in and do their crazy dance in my stomach again.
I touch the pearl around my neck and undo the necklace. I put it on the table and head to bed.
I’m woken by a crash and a whoosh. I think someone’s breaking into the house.
Grace is howling. My mouth goes dry. Coming round, I realise it’s not the plane crash I was dreaming about; there’s a storm outside, doing its worst. The one that was due to miss us, no doubt!
I don’t know what the time is; there’s been a power cut.
I grab a torch and grapple for my clothes.
‘Shh, Grace, it’s OK,’ I tell her, although my heart’s still racing.
I pull on the hat and waterproofs that I hadn’t planned on wearing again.
I open the door a little and it flies open.
I look at my mobile phone hopelessly. Why should I think there’s going to be any signal here tonight?
But it does tell me the time: ten past twelve.
I shove it back in my pocket. Sean and Nancy’s party will be in full swing.
Then there’s a huge gust and I clutch my hands over my mouth as I watch a mesh bag full of the oysters, Sean’s native oysters, get ripped from its trestle table; the elasticated ropes must have given up.
It flies across the bay and lands some way away on the rocks.
I shake my head and then watch the next and then the next bag fly off its mooring. ‘No, no, no!’ I scream out loud. ‘Noooooooo!’ My face is screwed up. My stomach is in knots. ‘Please, no more …’
What if the storm hasn’t even reached Galway and Sean is blissfully unaware of what’s going on?
Everything he cares about is being trashed right in front of my eyes.
I turn back to the cottage. I’d like to think this isn’t my problem any more, that I could just walk away.
I get as far as the house when I hear more bags ripping away from their tables and splashing through the water.
Oh God! All that work, for nothing. I can’t let this happen again.
I’ve run away from everything that has gone wrong in my life, just like my mum, but I don’t want to be like her.
I can’t do it this time. I run round to the sheds, pull back the big doors and grab a lifejacket.
I put it on, take a huge breath and head towards the jetty where the boat is moored.