Chapter Forty-Eight
I take a deep breath and do something I should have done a long time ago. I step up on to the stand behind the white-covered tables and the crowd quietens in expectation.
‘My name is Fiona Clutterbuck,’ I say, like an alcoholic at the end of one road and the start of another. ‘I was jilted on my wedding day. I stole the camper van we were due to go on honeymoon in and ended up here.’ There’s a sharp intake of breath. The loudest from Margaret.
‘What are you doing?’ she hisses.
‘And do you know what?’ I look at Margaret.
‘It was the best thing that ever happened to me. Because here is where I learnt to be myself and not someone I’m not.
And if I had my time again, I wouldn’t change a thing,’ I say, and see Rosie sniffing into a tissue.
‘Someone once told me that when you get old, it’s the memories that matter, so make sure they’re good ones.
’ I smile at Grandad, who’s clapping, his eyes watering like mad.
‘I was once scared of being found. But what I realised was that I hadn’t found myself until now. So Patsy, I’ll be the final contestant in this round.’
Margaret rushes around getting a knife. ‘Are you sure you know what you’re doing?’ She is laying out a board and oysters. Her tiara has slipped to the left.
‘Never more so.’ I clear my throat.
‘Well, that prize money could really set you up.’ She straightens.
‘This isn’t about the money, this is about standing up for what’s right.’
I think the fact that I’m up against Seamus and a couple of others who have spent too much time at the bar helps me make it through to the final. More luck and too much Guinness on their part, I think. But now it’s for real. It’s the final.
‘Excellent, excellent.’ Dan is beside me, whispering in my ear.
‘So, make this look good, open a few oysters and then I’ll win and your job is still safe with me, baby!
’ He grins and holds his hand up to high five me.
I tap it gently and swallow hard. Yes, I could just do what he says.
Leave this mess behind. Open a few oysters then get back on that plane to Boston and start all over again.
Dan is picking up the oysters and inspecting them.
‘And these are the native oysters you told me about?’ He’s tapping one. I groan, remembering how I let the cat out of the bag on my birthday. He said I’d given him the idea. It was me who’d told him there was gold in these waters! Margaret is laying up the boards. I have to tell her.
‘Dan’s in this with Nancy. He wants to win and then buy the farm out from under Sean. He’s going to pay off Sean’s debt collector and take the farm for himself.’ Margaret stops laying out the oysters. ‘I don’t want to hurt you again, but you have to know. You know I wouldn’t lie to you. I’m sorry.’
She looks up at me like a kicked puppy.
‘Contestants ready?’ Patsy is sounding more and more like the commentator from Gladiators.
I glance up and see Sean has slid in at the back of the barn. He’s looking worried. I look at Dan, who winks at me. To his left, Frank is swaying slightly. To the right is the Swede.
‘This is the final of the Dooleybridge shell-shucking contest. Contestant number one is Al Sterky from Sweden.’ He raises both hands above his ruddy red face and there’s a small cheer from one corner of the barn.
‘Then, erm,’ he consults the clipboard Margaret is showing him, ‘Fiona Clutterbuck from the UK.’ There’s a huge cheer.
I look up to see Rosie, Lily, the kids, Seamus, Padraig, Patsy, Margaret and Grandad all rooting for me.
Tears prick my eyes. I can just make out Sean shouting his support through his cupped hands, even though one of them is bandaged up.
I wipe away the blurriness with the back of my hand. What Brian did might have felt cruel at the time, but he did it for both our sakes. Now it’s my turn to do something I believe in. I pick up my first oyster.
‘Go, Fiona!’ I hear a Cardiff accent and look up again.
‘Betty?’ It can’t be! ‘Betty? Who’s minding the café?’ I ask in astonishment.
‘Thought it was time Kimberly had a try. Whatever messup she makes, it’s time she had a go at proving herself.
Now, I’ve come all this way to see you win!
Brian had that Googley alert telling him about the oyster festival.
’ Garda Eamon is standing beside Betty. ‘He’s been ever so helpful,’ she tips her head at him and says in a loud whisper with her hand to her mouth, ‘Gay network, Brian says. I caught the first flight over once he’d confirmed it was you. We miss you, love.’
‘Dan Murphy, all the way from Boston,’ Patsy shouts, and the cameraman moves in on Dan. I’m still in shock. It’s all so surreal. Dan stands up and raises his hands above his head too, then turns his baseball cap back to front, ready for battle.
‘Remember, make it look good,’ Dan smiles at me. ‘Let me win and you get a whole new life in Boston.’
‘Oh, I will, Dan, I will.’ I grip the knife.
‘There’s all to play for,’ Patsy is bigging it up for the cameras and Margaret is deep in thought when Patsy shouts, ‘GO!’
I hold the first oyster, frill to the base of my thumb, but my hand is shaking so much I can’t get the knife into the hinge.
I tighten my grip, take a deep breath, hold it steady and finally I’m in.
Then I push the knife in all the way, closely missing cutting the palm of my own hand.
I look across to either side of me. Al the Swede is sweating profusely.
He’s working so hard to get into the oysters that he’s getting shell fragments in them.
Dan is working methodically. There’s a crash and Frank falls into the table where Patsy and Margaret are sitting, sending clipboards and stopwatches flying.
Margaret straightens her tiara and steps away from the flailing Frank with dignity.
I look back at the oysters and focus. I can open them but I’m nowhere near as quick as Dan. He’s opening them like a knife going through butter. I put the knife in again and push and twist, and then I imagine Sean has his arms around me, just like he did that first time he taught me.
‘Understand what’s keeping it closed,’ I hear his voice say, and my knife goes straight to the upper muscle and slices through it in a clean cut, releasing it from its shell and the same for the bottom muscle. I flip it and start the next.
Suddenly I’m in a rhythm and the oysters are opening in clean, quick movements, like I’ve suddenly got a magic key.
Aim at the hinge, push, twist, pop, slide, slice and flip.
I’m so into my rhythm I don’t notice I’ve run out of oysters.
I quickly stand back at the same time as Dan.
Al the Swede still has two left and throws down his knife, beaten.
So it’s between me and Dan. He looks at me with a confused frown.
He’s panting and grabs at his water bottle.
‘Good work,’ he says in between sips. ‘Who knew, eh?’ He’s frowning and confused. I’m just numb, hoping it was enough, but it may not have been.
‘Contestants, leave the stand, please,’ Patsy instructs, throwing out his arm.
Al the Swede is bright red in the face and is handed a pint of lager.
He downs it in one and holds it high to the applause of the audience.
I step down and am immediately scooped up in Sean’s arms. He hugs me so my feet are off the ground and I want to stay there for ever.
‘I’m sorry, I don’t think it was enough,’ I say.
Dan stands down and looks over at Margaret. She folds her arms and turns away from him with a sniff.
‘What the …? What is going on here today?’ His arms are open, his shoulders high. Margaret decides that’s enough of the silent treatment and stomps over to him. The judges are looking at the two boards, pointing with their pens and looking at their clipboards.
‘I can’t believe you’re going to do this,’ she says, none too quietly. ‘How could you? You can’t just buy up a farm and put another farmer out of business.’
‘But, honey, I thought you wanted the world to know about Dooleybridge oysters again?’
‘I do, but not like this!’
‘I’m sorry,’ I say quietly into the crook of Sean’s neck. I breathe in the smell of turf and sea air.
‘Hey, nothing to be sorry about. You did it. You came out of your shell. It doesn’t matter now if you’ve won the money. You found you. Feel good?’
‘Bloody brilliant!’ I say, and beam and then kiss him, long and deep, and he kisses me back, like he means it.
‘And the winner is …’ Patsy announces and regretfully we pull apart.
‘Finding you was all that mattered,’ says Sean, and tweaks my nose.
‘On presentation … our very own Fi English! Or should that be,’ he consults the clipboard, ‘Fiona Clutterbuck!’ he shouts again so the microphone crackles and pops and whines. The crowd cheer and suddenly I’m swamped by people patting me on the head, hugging me and shaking my hands.
I can’t believe it! I actually won! I’m being pulled out of the crowd and then I’m on the stand again, being handed a silver cup and a fat envelope of cash.
Cameras are flashing and the TV crew are right in my face, only this time I don’t mind.
In fact, I think I quite like it. I look at the cup then hold it above my head; actually, I love it!
The crowd in the barn cheers even louder.
‘I am Fiona Clutterbuck, Champion Shell-Shucker!’ I grin until my cheeks ache. Everyone I care about is here and they’re cheering and clapping.
I grab hold of the envelope and rip it open. Ten thousand euros.
‘What are you going to do with the money?’ the cameraman asks. ‘Go travelling?’
‘No,’ I smile, ‘I’m going to stay right here,’ and I march over to Jimmy Power.
‘Fi, wait!’ Sean catches my arm. ‘You don’t have to do this. This is your money. You can start over wherever you want now.’
‘I want to be right here. This is my debt, remember.’ I turn back to Jimmy.
‘Five thousand, right?’ I say.