Chapter Forty-Five
It’s a hive of activity back at the farm.
Sean has opened up the field opposite as a car park, and there are plenty of cars there already, all in neat rows.
Rosie’s kids are doing a great job as car park attendants by the look of it.
I park the van where I’m directed with big arm movements like windmills, and smiles to match.
Seamus and Padraig are putting tables and long benches out in the sunshine. Sean is making an old raft into a makeshift stage.
Rosie and her sister are hanging out bunting.
‘That’s lovely. Who made it?’
‘Maire,’ they say in unison.
‘Gerald gave her all his ex-wife’s clothes.
She’s been running it up into bunting all morning,’ Rosie says from the ladder as she hangs it on the outside of the barn.
The sun is pushing further up the sky. It sparkles off the water like thousands of tiny fairy lights.
The heron is watching from his position on the jetty.
On the rocks further out I can see movement.
‘The seals.’ Sean’s beside me.
‘The seals!’ I say excitedly, before remembering that he and I may be working together for the festival but we’re not really speaking, despite my insides doing a bongo dance at his very presence.
The tide is beginning to slip back down the shore, leaving patterns in the sand.
I hope today is the start of a new pattern that will keep coming back year after year.
‘Hey, Fi!’ I turn to see Frank leading Freddie who is whining in sheer joy. Mercury is following, as is a little white donkey.
‘Frank! We only lost two donkeys.’
‘Freddie wouldn’t come without her. Besides, the owner wanted shot of her. Can’t afford to keep her on. She can pull a cart and everything. I thought we could use her to bring in the oysters,’ he says. Freddie is standing beside his true love, happier than I’ve seen him in weeks. I look at Sean.
‘Room for another waif?’
He shrugs and smiles.
‘Maybe Freddie could give rides too?’ I say, as Frank rubs his long ears.
‘Great idea.’ He gives me the thumbs up.
The farm is looking fantastic. I walk over to the old barn and Sean follows me. Inside there are tables covered with white paper from a big roll we’ve found. At one end is a long table on its own where I’ve organised for the shell-shucking competition to take place.
‘The judges are on their way from Galway and Margaret’s got the list of entrants. The oysters are all ready in the shed.’ I’m going through my list out loud.
Inside the barn Maire is stepping back from a huge mirror she’s put on top of the stone fireplace. The surround is made from hundreds of oyster shells.
‘Maire, it’s wonderful!’ I’m stunned.
‘Thought this was just the place for it,’ she says with a smile. ‘Who knows, maybe someone will want to buy it. I’ve got a few other small ones if it’s OK to put them up?’
‘It’s the perfect place to show them, Maire. Let’s hope you get lots of buyers.’
Tea lights are being placed on all the tables by Patsy’s wife, and there’s a pile of plastic plates and cutlery.
I help move the blackboard over from the shed to write up the contestants’ names and their scores.
‘And can we get a table set up over there for the bar?’ I instruct Seamus and Padraig, who do as I ask without question. There are more tables and chairs round the outside of the big room.
‘Actually, English, I need to talk to you,’ Sean says, as I’m laying out the big bell and clipboards.
‘Not now, Sean. We’ll talk later, eh? Let’s just have today,’ I say. He says nothing then gives a tiny nod.
‘Where d’you want it?’ Patsy comes in carrying a huge barrel of beer on his chest. ‘Oh, and this is Grainne, a freelance journalist from Galway. Found her down at the marquee site. Nancy organised for her to come, she wants to cover the day.’
‘Great,’ I say to the young woman. ‘It’s Margaret you need to speak to. She’ll be here soon. Make yourself at home. Or better still, make yourself useful,’ I say, giving her a paintbrush and pointing towards a sheet that needs a sign painting on it.
‘Sure. And you’re …’
‘Fi, just Fi,’ I say.
‘Not from round here then,’ she says, holding a pen over her notebook.
‘No,’ I say, ‘I’m a blow-in.’ She gives me a look that says she’d like to know more, but I make a quick sidestep and leave her to paint while I go and find Dan who’s setting up the barbecue.
‘Hey!’ There’s smoke billowing out from the oil drum. Dan is waving his hands around. ‘You’re just in time.’ He pulls out a bottle of what looks like champagne from a cooler box under the barbecue.
‘Well, I’m not sure about celebrating. Dan, about the job …’
‘We’re celebrating because I’ve just about finished the book. I’ve written up all the notes and recipes from my travels. Just the last chapter to go.’ He peels off the foil and strains as he twists the cork.
‘The one where you write about finding your true spiritual home.’ I accept the sparkling, fizzing drink he hands me in a plastic glass.
‘Well, seeing as how there isn’t going to be any happy reunion with a long-lost relative, I’ve had another idea that put my roots very clearly on the map, very clearly indeed.
’ He finishes pouring himself a glass and holds it high in a toast. ‘So here’s to our future working relationship,’ he says, and suddenly the music has changed to heavy rock before I can tell Dan I’m not taking the job.
Sean is looking over at me, scowling. I’m going to have to tell him that I won’t be his bit on the side. He’s engaged to Nancy and I can drink champagne with whoever I like. I lift my chin and clink glasses with Dan.
‘To new beginnings,’ Dan shouts. I look out at the bay. You’d never believe it was the same place I arrived in four months ago. I take a sip. Who needs Boston when you could be here, drinking champagne and looking out at that sparkling sea. Everything looks just perfect.
‘So, how?’ I ask, enjoying the heady rush the champagne is giving me. ‘How have you found yourself some real Irish roots?’ I shout, just as the music stops suddenly.
‘I’m going to buy some!’ He beams at me.
‘Buy some? How can you buy some ancestral roots?’ I take another sip.
‘Well, if I can’t actually find any real ancestors to put in the book, I can buy me a bit of Ireland.’
That makes me laugh.
‘OK, which bit?’
‘This bit!’ he says, knocking back his glass. ‘I’m buying this farm.’ And I choke on the bubbles that catch in the back of my mouth and I wonder if it’s going to come back up.
‘But you can’t buy this bit. This is Sean’s bit.’
‘I have it on good authority that he’s not going to be able to pay his debts and this place will go up for sale. I’m ready with the cash.’
‘That’s rubbish. Of course he’ll be able to pay. The oysters are fine. Nancy has a load of buyers lined up. He’ll get the cash he needs.’ I put down the glass.
Dan raises his eyebrows. ‘Looks like things have changed while you were away.’
‘A lot has changed since I’ve been away.’ I narrow my eyes at him and begin to feel a steely determination growing inside me.
Margaret appears round the corner of the old barn.
‘Ah, there you two are! Thought you’d be up to no good.’
I can’t bear to tell her how much no good. She picks up the glass of champagne.
‘Good to see so many people here. Even Seamus and Padraig.’ She has her Pearl Princess sash over her arm.
‘Oh, did that journalist arrive?’ She looks around.
‘I got her painting a sign,’ I say, looking sideways at Dan. ‘Now let me show you the barn,’ I suggest. ‘Where’s Grandad?’ I ask as we walk into the old barn together.
‘I’m going back for him now. Oh my feckin’ God!’ Margaret stops and stares from the doorway. ‘It’s feckin’ perfect!’
‘Let’s just hope the public come,’ I say nervously. Whatever Dan means, this festival still matters to Sean by the looks of it. I watch him as he goes to inspect the oysters.
A crowd of women turn up clutching bowls of salad. I recognise them from the Pearl Queen selection night: the school teacher, some of the mums, the librarian and the cleaner. Then Evelyn turns up, grinning.
‘Fishcakes!’ she announces, proudly peeling off the lid of a large plastic box.