But Sean is already walking towards the tractor, like a captain leading his battalion to war. I know I have to follow.
Breathe in, breathe out. And again. After several deep breaths he turns back to look at me. A hint of irritation flashes across his face. I can’t afford to mess this up, and throw myself forward with great big sploshes. He’s shouting something at me but I can’t hear him.
I’m almost in front of him when I finally hear what he’s been trying to say: ‘Not so much movement or you’ll get water over the top of your boots …’ just as I feel the cold, wet trickle run over the top and all the way down into my socks.
‘Wait there,’ he commands. He marches off in search of the bags he wants. His shoulders are broad and he’s swinging his arms to help him as he wades. I should be doing more but get the feeling I’d be more of a hindrance than a help at the moment. I stand, ankle deep in the water, looking past Sean who’s scanning the tables. Beyond him there’s just the sea. A huge bird lands with a flutter on a rock next to me. I jump but don’t scream. It’s incredible, the size of a small dog. I’ve never seen anything like it. It looks around in small, quick movements.
Sean’s coming towards me, pulling bags through the water. I expect the bird to fly off, but it doesn’t. Sean loads the bags.
‘What is that?’ I hiss, not taking my eyes off it.
Sean turns and looks.
‘It’s a heron,’ he says, matter-of-factly. ‘Never seen one?’
I shake my head in awe. He smiles.
‘He’s waiting for scraps.’ Sean climbs on to the trailer, securing the bags.
‘Scraps?’
Sean jumps down. Instead of flying off, the heron gives the merest flicker of its head.
‘I’ll grab a few more bags and we’ll take them up to the shed,’ Sean calls over his shoulder to me. He tosses something in the heron’s direction. The heron swoops on it, drops of water from the sea rolling off his white and grey feathers as he surfaces, his sharp beak and long neck pointing upwards as he swallows his treat in one.
‘Right, grab this,’ I hear Sean shout, and see something flying towards me and it’s not a bird. I put my hand up to catch it, not neatly but I don’t miss it completely. It’s an elasticated cord with a hook on the end.
‘See if you can attach it.’ Sean is securing the other side. I pull the rope over the bags of oysters, find a lip and secure it, finally feeling I’m being of some use. Thenwith a few more ropes in place he shouts, ‘Hop up and we’ll take them back to shore.’
I don’t need telling twice. The water is now lapping above the welly line.
‘Stand up on here.’ Sean points to the crossbar of the trailer. I grab hold of the tractor seat and pull myself up. Water cascades off my legs and feet as I turn to lean against the wooden end of the trailer. Soon I’ll be back on dry land. Thank God.
‘You OK?’ Sean swings into the tractor seat. I can’t speak. Relief seems to have made me rather emotional, so I give him the thumbs up.
‘Hold on,’ he shouts over his shoulder and the tractor, trailer and I lurch forward. I do as I’m told and hold on tight. Then we begin to rock and dip our way back to shore. It can’t come soon enough. Grace is running behind the trailer, regally lifting her long legs high out of the water, like a hound at the wheels of her master’s coach.
I was completely useless out there. I know Sean must be thinking I was a complete waste of space. I have to show him differently. I can’t let him think he’s made a mistake.
Sean stared straight ahead. He knew he mustn’t expect too much on the first day, but he’d hoped for a little more involvement, or even interest. She was hopeless. He looked around at his beds. If the licence went through he might be able to buy more spat and expand in the next few months. Maybe he’d try and get out on the boat and go round to the second bay before Nancy came back for him later that evening. But he had lots to do and an assistant with a severe case of first-day nerves wasn’t helping. But, he thought with everything crossed, let’s hope that’s all it was, first-day nerves. Otherwise he’d never be ready for the inspection. He sighed and put his foot down.
The trailer seems to swing around even more as the tractor pulls on to the stony shore and up the steep bank. I cling on so hard that the tips of my fingers hurt. It would be crucifyingly embarrassing to actually fall off now. That really would confirm everything I’m sure Sean already thinks about me. The tractor and trailer swing round towards the gate and just for a scary second or two I don’t think I’m going to be able to stay upright. But then I feel the tractor start to reverse.
‘Head down,’ Sean calls over his shoulder and I do exactly as I’m told. I crouch as low as I can so he can see over me as he reverses the trailer up to the shed doors.
Finally the engine shuts off and I stand up. By some miracle I haven’t made a complete prat of myself by falling off and suffering any serious injuries under the wheels.
‘Let’s get the spat done and then we can get into the sheds.’ Sean jumps down from the tractor and looks up at the darkening sky. He opens the shed doors and reaches just inside for two big plastic crates. He puts them either side of the trailer and points for me to stand on one. It wobbles but I find my balance and wait for instructions. I go to pull off my gloves but he stops me.
‘Leave those on, you’ll need them. Cuts from shells can hurt, but if you get any under your nails then you’ll really know about it.’
The drizzle turns to rain.
‘We have three types of rain here,’ Sean says as he pulls some of the bags off the trailer and drops them by my crate. ‘It’s raining, it’s just stopped raining, and it’s just starting to rain.’ He smiles at his own joke, dropping another bag by me.
‘Now then, empty this bag of baby oysters into this sieve here.’ He picks up a large garden sieve and puts a big plastic bucket on the trailer. ‘Anything that doesn’t gothrough can move up into the next size bag; the other stuff can go back in the bags they came out of. Then we’ll sit them in the water.’ He nods to the shoreline that seems to be creeping closer. ‘Tide’s coming in so we’ll take them back out to the tables in the morning.’
I put a foot on both sides of the crate to steady it and take the bag from him. The rain is getting heavier. Rivulets of water are running down my raincoat like molten silver. I reach up and pour the shells into the sieve, blinking back the rain. I keep my head down and keep going, focusing on the tiny oyster shells until I reach down and discover there are no more bags. I look over to Sean on the opposite side of the trailer where he’s doing the same. I jump down and grab a couple more bags from his side and sieve them. It’s absolutely lashing down by the time we’ve finished them all.
