‘What about a fishing competition?’ There’s a murmur of approval from the men.
‘Or a spa night?’ says Rosie.
‘What d’you think, Fi? Think holiday-makers would come for any of those?’ Maire asks. I take a big sip of drink, then a deep breath, and am about to say what I need to say when the door opens and in comes a face I’d recognise anywhere.
‘Ah, two pints of your finest please, barman,’ says a broad American accent. I glance at him then look out of the window and notice the big black 4×4 parked out there. Just like the one at the farm the other night.
‘Jesus Christ!’ I splutter into my drink.
‘I don’t think he’ll make it to the spa night, dear,’ says Evelyn, who’s got out her knitting and is showing Maire.
Iduck down behind Margaret.
‘Fi, what are you doing for feck’s sake?’
‘Dropped an earring,’ I say stupidly, clutching my left ear. See, I just can’t think on my feet.
‘Wow, this is quite a place,’ I hear the man at the bar saying.
‘Fi, we’ll find it in a minute. Now, will you get up off the bench,’ Margaret says crossly, ‘you’re disrupting the meeting. Now, what were you going to say? We need to decide on something. Come on!’
‘I can’t!’ I hiss.
‘Can’t what?’ Margaret bends down to meet my face.
‘I can’t let him see me.’ I nod towards the man at the bar.
‘So this is where it all happened? This is where my forefathers sat before me.’ He’s looking round the bar. He’s tall, about six foot. He has neatly trimmed black hair around his ears and a baseball cap firmly on his head with sunglasses on the top. His teeth are bleached white. If I didn’t dislike him so much for what he’d done I’d say he was, in fact, quite good-looking.
‘I feel like the returning hero, coming home,’ he gloats.
‘Returning hero, my foot!’ I sit up, but still with Margaret in front of me to shield me.
‘Fi, what are you talking about?’ Her face is up close to mine.
‘He’s the one who stole Sean’s oysters. He’s the oyster pirate!’ I hiss and point. ‘Him in the baseball cap.’
Margaret spins to look at him. She doesn’t need telling twice.
‘Hey!’ she shouts. I cringe. ‘You!’ She points and comes out from behind the table. The American turns to face her in surprise. The young woman with him takes a step back. He looks left and right and then puts his hand to his chest, sticks out his chin a little and mouths, ‘Me?’ He looks surprised but not displeased. He turnsto smile at his companion, who doesn’t look so convinced.
‘Yes, you!’ Margaret starts to stalk over to him, still pointing her finger. I can’t help but wish I had just a little of her chutzpah. Margaret’s the sort of person you’d want in your corner. But I also realise I need to be in hers if we’re to be friends. I jump up and stand by the table in support.
‘What on earth do you think you’re doing here?’ Margaret accuses him. But strangely he smiles some more and then reaches into his inside pocket and pulls out a pen. He turns and picks up a cardboard mat from the bar. Margaret stares at him in disbelief as he holds the pen to the mat.
‘What’s your name, sweetie?’ he smiles, showing some very white teeth. I’m now standing right behind Margaret and we’re both looking at the beer mat.
‘My name?’ she fires back angrily. ‘How about you tell me your name and I get the Garda up here to arrest you?’
‘Arrest me?’ he laughs, but his smile slips just a little. He looks at me and his smile slips a lot.
‘Oh no, oh hang on!’ He lets his hand fall with the beer mat still in it. ‘That was a misunderstanding.’ He waves the pen between the two of us. Margaret takes a small step forwards.
‘So you admit you were at Sean Thornton’s farm?’
I don’t have the words to do what she’s doing. My cheeks are bloody blushing again and my feet are starting to look for the black hole.
‘Well, yes, but—’ He shrugs and Margaret cuts him off.
