‘And Grace,’ he smiles. ‘I can assure you, there’ll be no inappropriate advances from me. This is just business. The very last thing I’m looking for is …’ He takes a deep breath. I think he’s going to say ‘love’, but he doesn’t. He stares at me as if trying to find the right word.
A shiver runs through my body. And then suddenly he lets go of my hand, leaving the sentence unfinished, and I swallow hard.
‘So, no more secrets,’ he says, and opens the door, flicking his head for me to follow.
Well, there is one more, but I don’t seem to be able to find the words. ‘I’m terrified of water’ might put him off. I’m determined to show him I’m a hard worker and not afraid to get my hands dirty. I’ll have to work around it somehow. I need this job.
‘Let’s get to work,’ he says, handing me a large yellow waterproof jacket. He marches out, leading the way. The sea looks to be further back than earlier. See, things are looking better already. I follow him round to the sheds.
‘The tide’s going out and it’s now that we can actually get to the oysters. This is a spring tide so we need to move quickly.’
‘What’s a spring tide?’ I ask, hugging my coat around me tightly.
‘It means the tide’ll go back further than normal, so we can get to the oysters easier. It’s when the sun, moon and earth form a line, so it happens twice a month, at the full moon and the new moon.’ He’s starting to get animated. I, on the other hand, can’t really take it all in and feel myself glazing over, no matter how hard I try to concentrate.
‘The neap tide, on the other hand, happens for the other two weeks in the month. The tide will hardly go back or come in. Makes it nearly impossible to do anything with the oysters.’ He pulls back the doors to the shed with a clank and scrape and I’m hoping that’s the end of the tidal lecture. I follow him into a room full of machinery and then into another room at the back. He turns to me. ‘What size shoe are you?’ He looks down at my feet, still in gold mules.
‘Five,’ I say, and he bends down and hands me a pair of green wellington boots.
‘Six is the smallest I’ve got.’
Then he hands me some thick socks. I pull them on and then the wellies. I pick up the gold mules and give them a final stare. Then I go over to the dustbin in the corner of the room. I won’t be wearing them again anytime soon.
Sean’s watching me. ‘Sure?’ is all he says.
‘Sure,’ I say, and drop the shoes into the bin. I get the feeling me and these wellies are going to get to know each other really well over the next month.
Chapter Seven
I look like Mr Blobby as I emerge from the shed. I’m wearing yellow waterproof dungarees, wellies that are too big, and the extra-large waterproof jacket complete with sleeves that hang down over my fingers. I half think he’s done this on purpose. Is that a smirk he’s hiding from me? I bristle but am determined to show him I’m not afraid to get stuck in.
He hands me a pair of brick-coloured waterproof gloves and plonks a woolly hat on my head. I now feel as though every bit of dignity and femininity has been stripped from me.
‘You’ll need it out there!’ He points to the sea where there are now poles in straight lines visibly sticking up out of the water.
I pull the hat down further so it covers my ears and hides my neat bob.
‘Sorry, it’s all I have,’ he apologises again about the waterproofs.
‘It’s fine,’ I say, and mean it. I feel completely detached from reality, numb. And feeling numb is much better than hurting. I just need to get this over and done with before my retreating resolve runs out on me.
‘Where do you want me to start?’ I look around at the untidy shed, but Sean is looking down the lane. A black BMW is approaching. It pulls into the gates and stops. Grace starts up her impressive barking and Sean catches her collar and tries to quieten her. When Grace is firmly in Sean’s grasp, the car door opens and a woman dressed in black jeans, a crisp white T-shirt and a leather flyingjacket steps out. She pushes her sunglasses on to the top of her head, despite there being no sun. She looks like Sophia Loren.
‘Who’s that?’ I look at Sean. He doesn’t look back at me.
‘Ah, that’s Nancy. Nancy Dubois. My … partner.’ He smiles and waves. Grace doesn’t stop barking.
‘Your partner? But I thought you said—’
‘I said I wasn’t married,’ he cuts across me. ‘It’s different.’ He looks directly at me. ‘It’s a good rule for life: never assume.’ That look tells me there’s an awful lot more to Sean Thornton than meets the eye.
I turn back to look at the stylish woman coming towards us in her shiny, black, expensive leather boots. Now I know why the idea of him being with a hooker, or having any designs on me, was so laughable. I shrink further into my waterproofs, actually grateful they’re big enough to get lost in.
‘Nancy has just taken over a new restaurant in Galway, The Pearl. It’s her big passion at the moment, apart from me of course,’ he jokes, and the slightly uncomfortable atmosphere disappears.
‘Why can’t you ever get mobile reception here?’ Her accent is a strange mix of French with an Irish burr. She waggles her phone at him and skirts round Grace. ‘I’ve being trying to ring. Don’t tell me, out on the hooker.’ She falls against him, one hand on his chest, one leg lifted slightly out behind her as she plants a kiss on his mouth. It’s like a scene from a movie – perfection. I look away. Brian and I were more an awkward peck on the cheek type of couple, could never get the timing right; I would usually end up getting a kiss in the hair while I kissed his ear lobe. We probably didn’t practise enough.
Nancy pulls away and spins round to look at me.
