Nancy looks me up and down as I climb into the passenger seat of her clean car, and at the muddy footprints I make in the footwell.
‘No Sean?’ she says by way of a greeting.
I shake my head. ‘He’s watching out for the oysterpirates.’ Although I suspect he’s glad to have the excuse.
She sniffs and then starts up the engine and heads for town, just missing Freddie and Mercury who are standing by the white donkey’s gate. I should get out and take them home but she’s careering down the road, firing out instructions as we go.
‘Marquee; it’s got to be classy. Make sure you organise it from the city, not from some hill farmer out here. Tickets, promotions, newspapers …’
‘I was thinking we should try and make it as close to how the festival used to be as possible. Grandad was telling me all about it. The locals seemed to be a big part of it, and the whole town would turn out. I was thinking we could have a local band, activities for the children,’ I offer up.
‘Good God, no! We may be using local oysters but that’s about as parochial as it’s going to get. It’s got to be classy. It’s got to compete with the festival in Galway and over in Clarenbridge. It’s got to be bigger and better.’
We obviously have totally different ideas about how the festival should be run.
‘You do know we’ve only got eight weeks to get this together, don’t you?’ I tell her.
‘I’m sure you’ll manage it.’ She turns to me and gives me a big smile. ‘Anyone who can get Sean Thornton’s cottage as sorted as you have is capable of rising to a challenge.’
I think she’s giving me a compliment but there’s a look in her brown eyes that just unnerves me.
‘Besides, you don’t want to let Sean down now, do you?’ she adds much more quietly.
Chapter Twenty-six
‘So it’s official, we’re bringing back the oyster festival. For real!’ Margaret is telling anyone who’ll listen from behind the bar. ‘It’s brilliant. I mean, that’s exactly what we need. Fame, right here in Dooleybridge. I knew it would happen. It said so in my horoscope today.’ She pulls out a well-thumbed copy of a magazine from under the bar. The paper’s so thin it crackles as she turns to the page she knows off by heart. She starts reading with dramatic projection. ‘Prepare for your world to take centre stage—’
‘Margaret,’ I interrupt her.
‘Oh hi! Dan’s on his way. He’s moved into Rosie’s chalet. Should be here any minute.’ She looks like she’s won the golden ticket. ‘My horoscope is just brilliant.’ She holds up the magazine again. Nancy gives an impatient little cough.
‘Oh, Margaret, this is Nancy Dubois.’ I swallow. ‘Sean’s—’
‘Oyster broker,’ Nancy finishes for me.
Margaret takes in Nancy in much the same way she did me when we first met. Her eyebrows arch.
‘He’ll be here any minute. I told him we wanted to talk,’ Margaret says.
Bang on cue the door swings back with its usual crash. Dan smiles and marches in with Mary Jo behind him.
‘Hey,’ Margaret gives him a wave. Nancy’s head spins round.
‘Dan Murphy? I’m Nancy Dubois, festival organiser,’Nancy says with a smooth smile and flicks back her hair. Again Margaret’s eyebrows lift. Nancy’s hand shoots out to shake Dan’s.
‘Festival organiser? I hadn’t realised. I thought these two ladies were behind all this.’ Dan looks from me to Margaret and is probably wondering if we’re a bunch of screwballs.
‘I’m in charge of media,’ Margaret quickly appoints herself. ‘Unless you wanted to do that?’ she turns to me.
‘No, no, you go ahead. I’m happy doing the behind-the-scenes stuff.’
‘This festival will be a huge affair. We’re going to have restaurateurs and buyers from Dublin, Galway and France. It’s going to be a very prestigious event and we’d love it if you’d open it. Your family are from here, I gather …’ Nancy turns to me to confirm this and I nod quickly. ‘You’re the perfect choice.’ She smiles a stunning smile again, tinged with a little flirtation.
‘Happy to oblige,’ Dan says. Nancy turns triumphantly to Margaret and me, as if she’s just got him to agree to it herself, despite our hard work earlier. ‘I feel drawn to here. It’s in my blood. I’d be happy to help my homeland.’
I can see Margaret out of the corner of my eye. She’s putting a finger down her throat, making a gagging gesture behind their backs. I look away quickly, fighting to suppress the giggles.
‘We’ll organise some media stuff straightaway, get the festival launched, won’t we, Maureen?’ Nancy turns to Margaret who quickly stops making the gagging motion and pretends to be scratching her nose instead.
