Chapter Forty-Two
‘Fallen tree in the storm last night. Whopper, wasn’t it?’ says David the driver as we stop and start our way into Galway. I open my eyes, agree with him, then stare out to sea. But the more I stare the more I keep thinking I can see a red sail in the distance. Probably tiredness.
I feel wretched. I’ve let it happen all over again.
I’m humiliated and hurt, only this time it’s much worse.
I feel angry with Sean for settling for his loveless marriage, but more than anything I’m angry with myself for letting myself fall in love.
The one thing I said I didn’t want to do.
I shut my eyes again all the way to the coach station.
Sean watched as the red hackney drove over the bridge and up into Galway city centre.
There was no way he could get to her now.
Even if he moored here in the harbour, he’d never make it up to the coach station on foot.
He’d tried everything to catch up with the hackney and stop her from going.
He sat down in the boat and it bobbed to and fro, almost as if it was panting from the exertion of the wild run into the city.
‘Hey, nice boat, mister,’ some young boy called from his jostling group of friends who were eating sausage rolls from paper bags and throwing crumbs to the waiting swans.
‘Give us a ride,’ another shouted and pushed his mates playfully.
Sean gathered the ropes together and prepared to turn the boat about.
She’d chosen to go and he hadn’t had the chance to tell her how he felt.
He’d been wrong about Nancy and he’d been wrong to try and run away and hide from his feelings for Fi.
She’d saved his oysters but stolen his heart, and now she’d gone it hurt like hell.
He pulled at the ropes and the hooker began to come round, heading for home.
The heron landed on the brow of the boat.
Even he’d struggled to keep pace with Sean, but he’d kept going, never doubting he’d find him.
Sean set off again as did the heron. The heron knew his way home. Sean just hoped that Fi did too.