‘It’s a great opportunity to put your oysters back on the map, put Dooleybridge back on the map.’ I try my best.
For a moment he says nothing. Then, slowly and quietly, he says, ‘Providing we’ve got oysters to sell.’ He raises an eyebrow. ‘I’m just not happy with us setting this whole thing up and for there to be no oysters. It’ll be like a public hanging.’
‘You’re the best oyster farmer around here. It has to be worth the risk, doesn’t it?’
Again he says nothing, just slams down the lid of his toolbox and starts to make his way towards the barn. As he passes me he says, ‘Looks like I don’t have much choice.’
Is he saying what I think he’s saying?
‘So you think it’s a good idea?’ I suddenly feelvery relieved.
‘No, I’m not saying I think it’s a good idea.’
My lifted spirits plummet like a bungee jump from a high building.
‘I’m saying, just make sure it isn’t a total fuck-up. I can’t afford for anything to go wrong.’
He marches back to the shed and I follow. At least he’s stopped sulking and is talking again.
Chapter Twenty-five
‘So Sean likes the festival idea?’ Margaret claps her hands together.
‘I wouldn’t go so far as to say “likes”,’ I say cautiously to Margaret the next day, as we pull up in the car park of one of Galway’s smartest hotels.
‘But he’s in?’
‘Well, let’s just say he’s coming round to the idea.’
‘Hi, how can I help you?’ says the tall blonde woman on the hotel reception.
Margaret takes charge. ‘Hi, we’re looking for Dan Murphy. I believe he’s staying here?’
The receptionist doesn’t smile. She turns to her computer screen while I look around the foyer. Modern and minimalist. Out of the hotel, across the busy road, is water, more water, no doubt leading to the harbour where I went with Sean the day I thought I was going to be getting on a plane and leaving Ireland. The day I finally accepted my marriage had been a fake.
‘Who shall I say wants him?’
I spin back round. The receptionist is holding the phone and her hand is hovering over the dial buttons.
‘We’re …’ Margaret misses a beat.
‘Work colleagues. We have some news about the family tree he’s working on.’ I smile. The receptionist doesn’t, but dials the number. She speaks in such hushed tones that I can barely hear what she’s saying.
Margaret is giving me a ‘WTF?’ look.
‘Well,you probably know his relatives. You know everyone,’ I whisper.
‘He’ll be down now. Take a seat,’ the receptionist instructs.
We do as we’re told and shuffle shoulder to shoulder over to the soft seats in the huge window and watch the traffic pass by. Margaret finds a magazine and turns straight to her horoscopes.
I watch the steps and see an old red Skoda pull into the drive. I recognise the driver and passenger. A large delivery truck is in their way and they honk the horn. I’m about to point them out to Margaret when I notice the large bag of oysters in a black mesh bag on the back seat. The truck moves on and the Skoda carries on round the back of the hotel. It couldn’t be, could it? I could just be putting two and two together and coming up with seventeen, but it does seem odd. I don’t even know if they are Sean’s oysters, but my gut feeling is shouting at me that they are.
‘It’s him!’ Margaret hisses from behind her magazine. I spin round quickly to see the receptionist pointing towards us.
‘Hi, I’m Dan Murphy, you wanted to see me—’ His smile drops as soon as he registers who we are. He looks from me to Margaret, peeping out from above her magazine.
‘Hi again,’ she says brightly.
