‘I just need to get through tomorrow. That lot waiting to go to market,’ he nods in the direction of the bagged and prepared oysters, ‘will pay the licence and get me some more spat. Then I can start sorting out some of the other bills.’ He smiles and grabs a tin of Guinness from the fridge and cracks it open. ‘Once tomorrow’s out the way I can start moving forward. It’ll be fine. You go and shower.’
I don’t need telling twice and disappear to the bathroom. I turn the shower on full whack and wait for it to heat up.
Suddenly there’s music playing loudly on the kitchen radio. I can hear Sean singing along. He obviously feels life is on the up. I step tentatively into the shower. Maybe it’s time things got better for both of us. I smile. There’s warm water for starters.
When I’m warm and clean I switch off the shower and step out onto the wooden bath mat on the floor. There are lots of towels spilling over the towel rail. I do something I’ve wanted to do since I got here and pull them all off.Then I fold and straighten them with a little feeling of satisfaction. You never know, the inspector might need to come in here too.
I can still hear Sean’s music blaring out and realise I’m nodding along to it myself. The water drips off me. It feels like tomorrow is going to be a new start for both of us. Outside the rain has stopped. The sun is attempting to finally show me how pretty it can be, throwing a yellow pathway down to the sea, a bit like Dorothy’s yellow brick road. If only I had a pair of ruby slippers! A soft, blurry rainbow reaches across the bay. I take watery steps towards my towel on the tidy rail and then hold it to my face. It smells of washing powder and peat smoke. But not like my washing powder at home. It smells soapier and not so floral. Brian liked the one with ylang-ylang in it.
I walk to the sink, naked, and look in the mirror. A lot has changed in four weeks. The way I look for starters. Thinner. More tired. But there’s colour in my cheeks. In fact my face looks quite healthy. My neat bob is curling at the ends. I stand on tiptoes to see more of myself. I’m still hippy but I’ve lost weight off my chest. Brian and I didn’t spend much time naked. We took it in turns in the bathroom and sex was a lights-off, under-the-covers affair. I look at myself again and I wonder if he ever really loved me. Or was I always just a decoy, throwing people off the scent? I don’t expect I’ll ever know now. But at least that explains him never wanting to see me naked.
I start to dry myself. My rings slip around my fingers. I slide them off for the first time since I said ‘I do’ and Brian said ‘Sorry, I can’t’ after signing the register. I hold them in my hand. It’s time to move on. And these rings are my ticket out of here. I turn them over in my hand and then clench them tightly. It’s the end of my trial period. Tomorrow Sean will be through his inspection. I’m going to sell them and move on, even ifit’s just to my mother’s lumpy sofa in Malta. Although I’m not sure her current boyfriend will be too happy to see me and I definitely won’t be calling him Uncle. Especially when I gather we’re very close in age. Just thinking about it makes me feel like I’ve stepped in cold custard. But I don’t know where else to go. I may not like my mother or the way my teenage years panned out, but she is the only relative I have. All I have to do now is tell Sean. I know we’ll never keep in touch, but he wasn’t so bad. I can say that now I won’t have to work for him again. Like I say, with luck we’ll part as friends.
The floor’s cold and my bones still ache. At least it should be hot in Malta. I turn back to the sink to do my teeth and just as I’m reaching for the Colgate on the window sill, a dark shadow falls across my hand. I freeze.
Chapter Fifteen
He’s standing in front of the window, a man in a baseball cap, blocking out the sunset. He’s turning slowly, holding a smartphone horizontally at arm’s length, panning across the oyster beds. Only now he’s slowly turning … towards me.
I snatch up the towel and just manage to throw it around me, clutching it to my chest before he turns and looks straight through his fingers at me. I don’t know who’s more shocked, but finally I manage to shriek and then so does he, dropping his hands, his sunglasses falling from his forehead to his face. Clutching both his hands on top of his head, he runs.
Shit! No way is all our hard work going to be jeopardised now. I throw back the bathroom door with a bang.
‘Sean, Sean!’ I run into the kitchen. ‘Sean!’ I yell again at the top of my voice, above his music and his singing. Even Grace takes a while to notice me from her place in front of the fire. The room’s full of the most amazing smells: caramelised meat, red wine, herbs, roasting potatoes, coming from the oven.
Sean’s standing with his back to me at the kitchen work surface. There’s a lamp plugged in on the side throwing light on to the chopping board he’s wiping down.
‘Sean!’
He finally spins round. Grace jumps up and barks. Clutching the towel, I lunge forward and press the off button on the CD player.
‘Oh, good God!’ he says, suddenly making me very aware that I’m standing in his kitchen with just a towel wrapped round me.
‘Never mind good God! This is urgent! There’s a man, in a hat, with a camera. Filming. Outside the window …’ I garble and point. What if it’sone of those pirates, oyster thingies he told me about? I couldn’t bear it if they were stolen now, not when we’ve worked so hard. Sean doesn’t need any more explanation. He throws down his kitchen knife and is at the door in two strides, calling Grace behind him. She jumps into action, letting out her war cry. Sean throws back the door and, stepping into his wellington boots, runs outside behind Grace who’s already giving chase. I follow to see the man in the hat jumping into a black 4×4 and departing at speed, showering gravel in his wake as he drives away.
Grace barks for all she’s worth, but the black 4×4 is already disappearing down the lane. Sean’s shaking his head, having given up running after it. He’s bent over, holding his knees. I’m still on the steps, anxiously wondering what damage they’ve done. Slowly Sean stands up and begins walking back towards me, still shaking his head.
‘I didn’t recognise the car,’ he frowns. ‘Could be from out of town.’ He calls Grace to him and makes a fuss of her.
The yard itself still looks immaculate. A far cry from when I first arrived. Broken fencing has been fixed. Wetsuits and wellies have been tidied, and even the little bit of grass on the bank is trimmed. The front door of the old barn has been painted and I even planted up a few wall flowers I bought in Rosie’s petrol station in some old lobster pots and put them either side of the old barn door.
‘I’m going to check the sheds and the stock,’ Sean calls over his shoulder. ‘Keep an eye on the dinner,’ and he stalks away.
‘No, wait, I can help.’ I start to follow. He turns, puts his hands on his hips and raises an eyebrow.
‘I don’t think so,’ he says, like a school teacher dealing with a challenging pupil. I bristle. He obviously still thinks I’m the wet-behind-the-ears girl from the city. I go to put my hands on my hips and remind him who’s done most of the tidyinground here, when the towel slips a little and I remember it’s all I’m wearing. A black cloud of insects suddenly gathers over my head.
A tiny smile tugs at the corners of Sean’s mouth; at least I think it’s a smile. And now that the immediate panic is over, I’m suddenly feeling very awkward. The dark cloud lowers over me and begins to sting my skin. A gang of mosquitoes is obviously settling in for a full-on feast. I run inside, straight back to the bathroom, where I let the towel drop, rub my hair madly and then jump straight back into the shower.
When I re-emerge fully dressed into the kitchen, which still smells divine, Sean’s back inside and the living room’s had a change round. He’s moved the table and pushed the settee away in order to be able to look out of the window at the oyster beds. He’s peering at them through big, heavy binoculars. I straighten a box of fallen paperwork.
‘You keep an eye out while I serve up.’ He hands me the binoculars. ‘The last thing we want is for the bastards to come back tonight.’
The binoculars are heavier than I expected. I step forward and take over where he’s been standing. It’s awkward negotiating the newly positioned settee and table. Nothing else has been moved to make space for them, and as I step forward, so does he. Just for a moment we’re chest to chest and I try to tilt myself back so as not to be touching but nearly topple backwards. He catches my elbow. I catch my breath. Just for a moment we hold each other’s stare and my insides unexpectedly leap. I look away quickly. It’s not good to be this close and intimate with your employer, I scold myself, even if it is only for one more day.
He’s wearing his blue knitted jacket with the hood. Its toggles press into me, emphasising how close we are. Just for a second or two I realise I’ve stopped breathing, and when I start again my chest rises up and down even more than before. I practically fall onto the settee,snatching the binoculars from him as I go.
‘Heavy, aren’t they?’ I chirp, trying to forget the closeness we’ve just encountered. For a moment I felt like my whole body had been kick-started from a hundred-year sleep.
