‘Yes, of course,’ she smiles. ‘And it’s Margaret,’ she corrects, but Nancy doesn’t seem to notice or, if she does, doesn’t care.
‘And you can judge the Pearl Queen competition,’ Margaret tells Dan. ‘That should get even more coverage.’
‘The what?’ Nancy looks irritated at Margaret’sinterruption.
‘You know, like a beauty queen. Someone to be the beautiful face of the festival – no offence like, Dan, not that you’re not beautiful, but you need a glamorous girl on your arm,’ Margaret explains, making me smile.
‘If we must,’ Nancy barely gives it a thought.
‘Great,’ he grins. ‘And will you be entering, Fi?’ He turns to me and my cheeks instantly burn bright red.
‘Oh no, like I say, I’m strictly behind the scenes,’ I manage to say.
‘But I will,’ Margaret butts in.
‘Fi here will be organising the festival itself. If you have any questions, just ask her and she can ask me,’ Nancy tells Dan, and Dan nods appreciatively in my direction.
‘I’ll be heading home like we planned, tomorrow,’ Mary Jo says to me. ‘Need to get back to the office, and the family,’ she says with a slightly watery smile. ‘Lovely as it’s been, I can’t wait to get home. My little boy will be missing me. I can leave my husband home alone only so long.’
‘Yes, I need you to go and hold the fort. Tell the publishers I’m on to it, not to panic.’ Dan pats Mary Jo on the shoulder. ‘I’ll have the book ready to tie in with the new TV series.’ I’m staring at Mary Jo and realise I’m pushing down my feelings of envy. She’s getting on a plane and going back to her home, family and friends. I wonder if I’ll ever have half of what she’s got. I know that’s why I’ve got to stay and throw myself into this, until these feelings go away. A sharp nudge in the ribs brings me back to earth.
‘So? It’s going to be just like it used to be?’ Rosie asks. ‘Grandad can tell you everything you need to know.’ She points her Bacardi Breezer at him. Grandad sits up straight in his wheelchair.
‘When I was a boy you couldn’t move for oysters here. Native oysters …’ He’s spreading out his fingers, seeing the beds in front of him.
‘Not now, Grandad,’ chorus the group that’s gathered around us.
‘Excuse me,’ Nancy says over their chatter, ‘this is supposed to be a private meeting.’ For a moment no one says anything. Then Frank laughs, showing his missing front tooth. ‘No such thing round here,’ he says, and the others chuckle in agreement.
‘This is going to be a professional affair. Obviously we’ll need waiters and waitresses, cloakroom staff, that kind of thing. But it’ll be a dinner and dance. I’ll be bringing in a chef from my new restaurant and I’ll be organising the oysters, obviously. A seafood extravaganza!’ Nancy announces and stands up to leave. She smooths down her dress and puts out a strong hand for Dan to shake. ‘Great to have you on board, Dan. Fi will sort you out from here. If you need anything, just call her.’
‘I will,’ he says with a wink.
Then Nancy flicks out any hair that has caught under her handbag strap on her shoulder and we watch as she sweeps out of the pub into the rain.
‘How do you think it’s going down with the rest of the locals?’ I say quietly to Margaret.
Margaret looks around and rocks her hand from side to side. ‘Excited, I think. Like you say, time to forgive and forget.’
I look around. I’m desperately trying to see any trace of excitement.
Seamus and Padraig are finishing their pints and Seamus pulls out a wad of notes from inside his jacket pocket. They’re chuckling and then look straight at me.
‘No Sean tonight?’ Seamus asks.
‘No, he’s at the farm in case the oyster pirates comeback,’ I say, narrowing my eyes.
‘Shame, would’ve liked to buy him a pint. Had a little windfall,’ Seamus chuckles a tobacco-filled rattle and Padraig joins him. I feel my hackles rise.
‘So, that’s settled then, Fi,’ Margaret interrupts my thoughts. ‘You’ll organise the venue, I’m doing marketing, and Dan, you’ll do a publicity launch. Oh, it’s going to be fabulous. I can’t wait!’ Her face is glowing like a child’s on Christmas Eve.
‘Only trouble is, I need to contact suppliers and things. There’s no reception up at the farm. How are we going to organise a festival without internet access?’ I look at Margaret.
‘And I have emails I need to send,’ Dan says.
‘Gerald’s café! Let’s call it Festival HQ! Keep it local.’ Margaret goes back behind the bar to serve Seamus and Padraig. I can’t help but look at them. If they did take the oysters I can’t let them get away with it. But what can I do?
‘Sounds like there won’t be anything local about it,’ says Seamus gruffly.
