‘Just look for yourself if you don’t believe me,’ he continues, and he’s probably right. I’ll only believe it if I see it for myself. I slowly take my eyes off him and look to where he’s pointing. The boat leans and I cling tighter, but still I look. The water is clear and I can see the bottom and all over the bottom are rocks of some sort.
I look back at him.
‘What are they?’
His face breaks into the biggest smile, so different from his set and angry face when we left the city.
‘They’re oysters … wild oysters, native oysters,’ he says. ‘My uncle discovered them years ago. It proves the waters here are clean. Only I know about them.’
‘So they’ll replace the oysters that were lost?’ I’m suddenly excited.
He shakes his head. ‘No, they can’t replace those. They were farmed oysters, Pacific ones. If I can sell these they’ll make far more money than all my other oyster stock. I’ll be able to pay off the loan no problem, and keep the farm going.’
‘But that’s brilliant,’ I say, still confused. ‘Why haven’t you said anything before?’
‘These are native oysters, growing wild. They’re more … fragile. They need tender loving care,’ he laughs, and ridiculously I blush. ‘Anything could happen. Too much water and they will fatten and open, and then of course there are the thieves. This is why I don’t want anyone on my land,’ he says firmly.
‘I understand.’ I feel privileged to have been let inon the secret. ‘So this is where you come in your boat?’
He nods.
‘It’s why I wanted someone who knew nothing about oysters. I didn’t want you to know what I was trying to do here. But now … now this is the only thing that will save me. I don’t want Nancy to know about them until I’m sure they’re going to make it. I don’t want her lining up buyers before they’re ready, just in case. Otherwise that will be her and my reputation down the pan for good. I can’t let her or the customers down again.’
‘Why can’t you let Nancy have them now, sell them, and pay back Jimmy Power?’
‘They’re spawning; it’s mating season. You can tell because the flesh is milky. They won’t finish until the end of August, and then they’ll need a rest from their parenting duties,’ he smiles. ‘But after that they’ll be ready to sell. Then I’ll need to get the best price I can for them.’
He suddenly peels off his waterproof top to reveal his wetsuit underneath, clinging tightly to his chest and arms. He must’ve put it on in the sheds earlier. Then he peels off his waterproof trousers and is standing in front of me, the wetsuit clinging to his thighs and calves. I try to look away but my eyes keep darting back to him, taking in his big shoulders, his flat stomach. He moves to the side of the boat and then, very quickly, drops over the edge into the water. The boat sways violently to and fro and I’m too scared to scream. But then he’s back in the boat with oysters in his hand. He pulls out a knife from a pocket on his bicep and puts it into the hinge of the oyster.
‘They’re different from the Pacific oysters you’ve been dealing with. They’re rounder, flatter and harder to open,’ he says, screwing up his face as he twists the knife to pop off the top shell. ‘See, they’re spawning. This is why Pacific oysters are better for farmers. They don’t spawn in our cold waters. See the milkiness I was telling you about? That’s why youonly eat native oysters when there’s an “r” in the month, when the waters are cold.’
‘What’s spawning again?’ I’m trying to take it all in.
‘Making love … they’re breeding,’ he says, and tips up the oyster into his mouth then dives under again.
‘Why is no one else doing this round here?’ I ask when he comes up again.
‘The conditions have to be right. That stream, the mix of fresh water and sea water is what does it. It’s magic. And the most important thing …’ he holds one up to the sky. ‘These oysters mean the waters are clean in Dooleybridge, and that means everything.’
He shakes out his wet curls, splashing me, but I don‘t squeal this time. I’m fascinated. Something catches my eye and I realise the seals are following us. Sean opens another oyster.
‘Hey,’ he says, and pulls something small and round from the shell and holds it up.
‘A pearl!’ I shout. ‘Is it valuable?’ My spirits suddenly start to climb. This could be the answer to our problems.
He laughs and shakes his head. ‘Worthless,’ he holds it out to show me. ‘These aren’t pearl oysters.’
‘Shame,’ I say, and my spirits start to dip again. ‘Pretty, though.’ I look at the little misshapen pearl, shiny and iridescent.
We head back round the bay as the rain really starts to set in. It’s getting greyer and darker.
Sean helps me off the boat and with wobbling knees we walk back to the barn where we hose down the waterproofs and lifejackets. The radio is playing and Sean turns up the volume while we finish up in the shed. He’s in buoyant mood, as am I. I clean down the blackboard. On the new spring tide we’ll have to grade all the bags that are left and start charting their progress again. I dust the chalk off my hand. Time todo the animals and then a hot shower, supper and bed. I switch off the radio and put away the broom.
‘So when exactly will they be ready to sell?’ I ask, still thinking about the carpet of oysters Sean’s shown me.
‘September. I just have to make sure they make it to September. If they don’t, it’s all over. No one must know.’
‘Fine by me,’ I say, and go to turn off the light and pull shut the shed doors.
