Chapter Forty-Four
It’s a scene of utter devastation as I stand at the entrance to the marquee.
Outside the sun may be starting to shine, but inside it’s like a paddy field.
You can’t see the coir matting that Nancy wanted, and the chairs have been knocked over, their big purple chiffon ribbons soaked in dirty water. I feel totally wretched.
‘You came back!’ Margaret shrieks.
I swing round and beam too, opening my arms to hug her.
‘I knew you would,’ she says, and she puts down her bucket and mop and hugs me tightly.
‘How could I not?’ I say, pulling away and looking round at the mess.
‘Came out of nowhere.’ Dan’s standing behind Margaret. ‘So how come you’re not in Boston?’ He looks a bit peeved, and I can’t really blame him; that’s twice I’ve let him down about this job.
‘Slight change of plan. Thought I might be needed here,’ I say truthfully.
‘What are we going to do?’ Margaret wails and puts her head into Dan’s chest.
‘Well …’ I do have one idea but I’m not sure I can make it happen. Dan and Margaret are looking at me but the words won’t come out, and at that moment Sean comes in carrying a tool kit. My stomach flips over and back again, like a gymnast doing flick-flacks across the floor.
‘Well, that’s the drain unblocked but I’m not sure what we’re going to do about this …
’ He stops in his tracks. ‘Fi!’ I could be mistaken but I’m sure his face suddenly brightens.
Even my eyeballs are hot from blushing. But being around Sean is something I’m going to have to get used to if I’m staying here.
‘Hello, Sean. How was the party?’ No point dancing round the subject.
‘Illuminating,’ he says. There’s an uncomfortable silence. Dan and Margaret look at each other. I don’t want to hear any more; I don’t need a blow-by-blow account of how spectacular it was.
‘What are you doing here?’ I ask, but I know Nancy must’ve sent him. Why else would he be helping out?
‘Let’s just say, someone made me realise that I needed to get a bit more involved with … all of this.’
‘In that case,’ I cut Sean off before I lose my nerve, ‘you could do worse than getting really involved.’
He frowns and gives me a look that says he might not like what I’m about to say.
‘Go on,’ he tilts his head like he always does when he’s listening, and stares right at me as if he can read my thoughts.
‘I mean, if we’re to have an oyster festival, here, today, we need to ditch this idea.’ I look around.
‘What?’ Margaret shrieks, her hands fly to her face. ‘Cancel it? Everyone wants to celebrate, what with the native oysters being back. Everyone’s so delighted. Ah, shite!’
‘No,’ I say slowly, ‘not cancel it, relocate it. Take it back to the farm. The tide’ll be out.
If this festival is going to happen at all, it needs to be a festival the local people want.
’ I look straight back at Sean. He stares at me hard, narrowing his eyes, but I stand my ground and stare back at him.
Suddenly he nods his head briskly. ‘Let’s do it,’ he says quickly and firmly, and Margaret shrieks and jumps up and down with delight.
Sean and I drive back to the farm in silence and at speed. Margaret and Dan follow in Margaret’s Fiesta, as do others in various different vehicles. Freddie and Mercury are missing from their field and there’s no sign of them on the lane up to the farm. Maybe the storm scared them.
‘Margaret, you get online and announce the venue change on Facebook, Twitter, and on our website. Oh, and stick a note on the door of the hotel too, just in case! Tell them the festival’s moved.
Tell people to bring their wellies and come ready for a good old-fashioned oyster festival, the way it used to be.
A tenner on the door and there’ll be music and food.
Let’s see if we can get Dooleybridge oyster festival trending! ’
‘Music? But the band’s cancelled,’ Sean says.
‘Sean, it may not be Wembley, but dust down your guitar and see who else you can rustle up to play with you.’ Surprisingly Sean doesn’t argue.
‘Oh, and can you organise for people to go out in the boat to collect some oysters or pick some up from the raft. It’s the best spring tide of the summer, according to the weather website. We should make the most of it.’
‘Who’s going to take them if I’m busy on stage?’ Sean protests.
I grin. ‘I can handle it.’
‘How are we going to feed everyone? The chef from Galway has refused to come out.’ Margaret looks worried.
‘Dan, follow me.’ I lead him and Margaret down to the old barn and fling open the doors. ‘We’ll put up the tables and chairs, and Dan, can you drag that out and fire it up?’ I point to the oil drum barbecue.
‘No problem, boss!’ he jokes, but I notice Sean is glowering at him.
‘Sean? Van keys?’ I hold up my hands in a cup shape.
He pulls away his stare from Dan and tosses them to me without question.
‘You boys, play nicely while I’m away,’ I joke, pointing to Sean and Dan, buoyed up by my turn-around decision.
Happy that everyone is organised and we’ve got a plan, I drive back down the flooded lane, the pot holes filled with water.
There’s a massive rainbow right across the town showing every colour.
I reach the small bungalow at the end of a short drive on the other side of town.
There’s washing on the line already, slightly greying, but blowing gaily in the wind regardless.
I knock on the white plastic front door.
‘Hello, Evelyn.’ She looks at me suspiciously but then we both speak at the same time.
‘I’m sorry to hear about the festival …’ she says.
‘About the festival …’ I say. We both stop.
‘You go first,’ I say politely.
‘Sorry about the festival, love. Hear it’s cancelled. I may not have said this before, but you put a lot of hard work into it.’
I smile.
‘Actually, Evelyn, it’s back on. Up at Sean’s farm. We’re going to have an old-fashioned oyster festival, music, pick your own oysters, and the shell-shucking contest. Everyone’s welcome.’
‘Really?’ Her face lights up. ‘Well, that’s grand! Just grand! Hear that, John Joe?’ she calls over her shoulder. ‘Ring the kids. Tell them the festival is on, just like the old days, up at Tom’s place. I mean Sean Thornton’s farm,’ she corrects herself. Accepted at last, I think happily.
‘Now, what can I do to help? Want any scones made?’ she rubs her hands together.
‘Actually, Evelyn, it wasn’t scones I needed,’ I say, hoping that this isn’t going to blow our new-found friendship. ‘I was thinking … how about fishcakes?’
‘Fishcakes?’ She screws up her nose.
‘Yes, they’d be great on the barbecue with the oysters and, well, I just thought you might be the woman for the job.’
‘I suppose I could give them a try. I’ve got quite a lot of fish in the freezer, of course, what with John Joe having the boat.’ She’s thinking. ‘Maybe we could do them in a bun, like a burger …’
‘Perfect!’ I clap my hands together.
‘Well, I’m happy to give them a try. I’ll bring them up to the farm as soon as they’re done.’
We say goodbye and I turn to leave. The sun is shining and my cheeks are warm. I strip off my coat and jump back in the van. I know exactly where I’m going next.
In the pub there’s a smell of cleaning fluids and stale beer.
The fire’s lit despite the sunshine outside.
Just like when I first arrived in town, I push open the door and it crashes back.
I walk in, stand and stare. Propping up the bar are Seamus and Padraig.
They pull their hats down and turn towards their pints.
No one says anything. I march over to them.
‘Right, you two!’ To say they’re shocked is an understatement. Seamus clings on to his pint with both hands. Padraig pulls down his baseball cap further. ‘Get yourselves up to Sean’s farm and start putting out the tables and chairs for the festival.’
They stare at me in surprise.
‘You paying us?’
‘You must be joking. Shift yourselves, unless you want me to show Sean those photos I took of the pair of you. Or the Garda for that matter. This is payback time.’ I put my hands on my hips.
They nod a lot and push their pints away.
‘Oh, and while you’re at it, seeing as you know the lay of the land so well, you can show the punters across the oyster beds to collect oysters for the barbecue. Clear?’
‘Clear,’ they say, and push and hustle each other out of the pub.
‘Hey lads, not finishing your pints?’ Patsy laughs, watching them go, and takes their pints off the bar. ‘I guess I’ll save them for later.’
‘Patsy, are you still OK to run a bar today?’
‘Got the drink still, it’s just the marquee that’s down.’
‘Great, bring it up to Sean’s farm, say at about two? I’ll have a table laid out for you. Now then, Grandad.’
Patsy nods to him dozing by the fire.
‘Bring him up to the farm too. I’ve got just the job for him.’
‘Righto,’ says Patsy. ‘Grandad, get yourself moving. It’s oyster festival day,’ he calls over as I leave. I feel the excitement too.
Next I check on Margaret who’s working hard on the internet in Gerald’s café. The café looks different.
‘Gerald, you’ve had a clean out!’ All his ex-wife’s clothes and belongings are gone.
‘Time for a fresh start,’ he says, handing me a takeaway tea.
‘It looks twice the size in here,’ I say, impressed.
‘Let’s hope after today I have twice the number of customers,’ he smiles.
Tea in hand, I head back to the van via Frank’s place.
‘Frank, what are you like at tracking down donkeys?
‘Leave it to me, Fi.’ He touches his forehead. Looks like everyone is happy to help.