‘Nooooo!’ I try to get my slippery foot back on the pedal. I can’t see where we’re going. The tractor tips from side to side and the torch flies from my hand. I can’t get my balance. I try and grab the steering wheel, eventually get a grip and yank as hard as I can, then the tractor hits something underwater, knocking me off balance again. The accelerator is stuck. I’m slipping and sliding trying to get control of the runaway vehicle, but the water’s getting deeper and I panic and before I can think about it, I bail out into the knee-high water. The tractor is heading further in, bumping and rolling its way towards the oyster beds.
I can only hold my hands over my mouth and watch as it lumbers like a hungry bear towards the trestle tables with what’s left of the oysters ready to be collected the next day.
There’s a bang, a clank, a crunch, a squeal, the sound of metal being mashed and oysters being crushed.
And the tractor gives a final dying sigh before sinking into a watery grave. I feel sick, physically sick.
‘Shit! Shit! Shit!’ Me and my bloody fear of bloody water. Terrified of the unknown. Terrified of my own shadow, more like. But not half as terrified as I’m going to be when Sean gets back tomorrow. ‘Shit!’
Chapter Twenty
‘Hang on, so let me get this right …’ He takes a very deep breath. ‘You’re telling me I’ve lost most of my oyster stock because … why exactly?’ Sean asks so quietly, it’s almost a whisper. He’s standing on the edge of the shore, staring out at the devastation in front of him. I’ve spent the morning trying to salvage what I could but it was hopeless, especially on a neap tide. Nancy’s beside him, her mouth wide open. Part of me thought about running out in the night. But I’ve had that dilemma before, nowhere to go, no transport. I had to stay and try and explain. With a dry mouth and a shake in my voice, I start.
‘It was last night. I wanted to stop them but … I tried throwing rocks and I couldn’t call anyone. They had a boat. I shouted at them to stop but they wouldn’t. The boat nearly knocked over the trestles. I tried to scare them off by starting up the tractor, then the accelerator got stuck and I had to jump off and the oyster sacks all fell into the water, but I couldn’t go in after them …’
‘It’s not very deep, didn’t you think to just wade in? Or why didn’t you just get in the boat? I thought you’d been on a sailing course.’
‘Because …’ My mouth dries up.
‘Yes?’ He’s looking at me intensely, coldness in his eyes. I lick my lips, trying to create some moisture in my mouth.
‘Because I’m, I’m, I’m …’ Oh, what did it matter now? ‘Because I’m scared of water.’ There, I’ve said it. ‘I couldn’t do anything about it because I’m scared of water.’
For a moment there’s silence. He bites his bottom lip and then says slowly and quietly, ‘And you never thought to mention this fact? Hmm? What with me being your employer,’ his voice getting gradually louder, ‘on an oyster farm!’
It’s fair to say he has a point. I stop fiddling with the loose stitching on the sleeve of my jacket. I lift my chin and look at him.
‘I needed the job and somewhere to live. And I don’t think I’ve done a bad job for you. I might not have told you about my fear of water but I’ve worked hard and helped you get this place ready for the inspection.’
Nancy rolls her eyes incredulously.
‘You’ve ruined his livelihood.’
Guilt is gnawing away inside me.
‘I’ll pay you back, every penny, I promise.’ I’m wringing my hands over and over.
‘Let’s hope so,’ Nancy cuts in again.
‘How?’ he says flatly.
Looking out, broken trestle tables litter the water, oyster sacks are ripped and floating. The oystercatchers, seagulls and that heron are having a feast. Sean’s right: ‘how’ is the question.
He pulls the collar of his coat around his ears and marches towards the jetty, muttering, ‘Feckin’ incompetent!’
He’s right again and it hurts.
‘Sean, where are you going? We need to talk about this. Customers will have to know. The truck will be on its way …’ Nancy calls after him. ‘Sean!’ But Sean just keeps walking down the jetty to the hooker. ‘What shall I tell them?’ she calls again. ‘Those oysters were going to France tomorrow.’
‘I’m out on my boat. I have things to do,’ he finally replies, zipping up his wax jacket, untying the ropes, and then jumping down into the boat as it sways this way andthat. The heron suddenly lands on the jetty next to the boat and marches up and down as if waiting impatiently for it to leave.
‘I can’t help but notice you’re still here,’ Nancy says to me while trying to get a signal on her iPhone without success. She waves it around in the air. ‘Bloody place! At least I won’t have to come out to this God-forsaken farm any more. But I do need more oyster suppliers.’ She’s scrolling through her contacts.
‘He loves this place. He won’t leave.’ My eyes sting.
‘I know I wanted him to spend more time with me, but I didn’t want you to ruin our businesses,’ she says with a spiked laugh. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got customers to speak to and oyster farmers to find.’
Nancy tosses her hair over her shoulder like she’s in a shampoo advert, goes back to her car, and drives off at speed. Then there’s silence; just the sloshing of the water and the fallen trestle tables in front of me. On the water Sean has the sails up, all three of them full and deep. He’s urging the boat on as if his life depends on it. The heron’s keeping up with him like a horseman loyally following its master’s carriage. There’s nothing more I can do out here.
