‘No, of course not. Why would I mind?’ I feel myself blushing.
‘Well, it’s just with the oyster pirates …’ He zips up the bag.
‘The oyster pirates, yes, of course!’ I’m blushing some more. Of course he meant the oyster pirates. What else? I put the kettle on.
‘Make sure you don’t tell anyone I’m away. But it’s the spring tide and by the looks of it they’re not that interested in coming when the tide’s low, or I wouldn’t feel comfortable going.’
‘I’ll be fine,’ I say.
‘Do you think you can turn the sacks on your own?’ He goes to get his toothbrush.
‘Yes, I’ll give it a good go,’ I say.
‘And whatever you can bring up to wash and grade, we can get them ready for the next farmers’ market,’ he tells me as he puts his washbag in the holdall.
I’m nodding frantically, still feeling stupid at my own silly misunderstanding. Sean’s looking this way and that. I hand him his wallet from the kitchen work surface.
‘Thank you.’
‘So, doing anything nice while you’re there?’ Oh, what a stupid question! He’s going to France with his attractive partner, of course they’ll be doing nice things!
‘We’re meeting some of Nancy’s old contacts. She seems to think they’ll be more interested in coming over if they meet the grower. I feel like a feckin’ dancingleprechaun in a travelling circus,’ he growls.
I try not to laugh and roll my lips in on each other.
‘Great,’ I enthuse. ‘It’ll be great for the festival. Staying somewhere nice?’ Why can’t I just stop? I don’t want to hear about what a lovely place they’ll be staying in!
‘With her parents in Arcachon. Then with friends of Nancy’s, just outside St Emilion.’ He picks up the bag.
‘Wow,’ I say without thinking. It’s another world. A far cry from walking holidays and pub grub. It’s sounds quite exotic, but then Nancy is exotic. I, on the other hand, am probably more bargain bucket.
He raises a smile, grabs his phone and waves it at me.
‘Got it! Call me if you want me. If you can. Look after Grace. And Grace? Look after Fi.’ Then he turns to go, awkwardly.
‘Have fun,’ I say, waving Sean off with Grace by my side, grinning until my cheeks ache. But deep in my chest a huge well of disappointment is opening up.
Chapter Thirty
The next day and night pass uneventfully. The following day I wake with the feeling of disappointment still there. It’s 21 August. My birthday. I feel older. I pull the covers over my head and hope the day will disappear. Grace nudges at me to be let out. At least when Brian and I had been together there had been a ritual to birthdays, just like there had been rituals for everything else in our lives. He’d hide all the cards that had arrived in the post and put them by my bed, with the individually wrapped presents. He’d bring me a cup of tea and then we’d start with the cards. There were never many: his mother, a friend of his mother’s, the hairdresser’s, and occasionally one from my mother, round about the date, but mostly there wasn’t one from her. Then I’d have to open the one from him and put on the birthday badge, which I always slipped off by the time I got to work. Then it was presents, smallest first.
But this birthday is different. I’m in the middle of nowhere, on my own. There are no presents or cards or mid-week takeaway. Today, I’m thirty. At twenty-nine I thought I had it all: fiancé, flat, job. Today I don’t even own the clothes I’m standing up in. Well, not all of them.
But it’s no good lying in bed dwelling on it. That’s the way to lunacy. Grace nudges my elbow again. I throw back the covers, pull on my clothes, and Grace and I go out to the shed. I can hear the hens clucking, desperate to get out and about and on with the day’s work.
‘Morning, ladies!’ I put down their food and watch as they strut out of the hen house.Martha, Sarah Jane, Amelia Pond. I decided to name them after various Doctor Who assistants. Mind you, it’s been that long since I’ve watched television there could be another six assistants by now. They peck away happily around my feet. I put down the goose feed and jog my way back to the gate with Brenda half-heartedly chasing me.
Freddie is pushing open his gate. ‘Oh, no you don’t.’ I catch hold of his head collar just as he’s trying to make a break for it. ‘What you need is something to occupy you, a job,’ I tell him firmly. I turn his head back towards the field and give him a push from behind. ‘All that energy should be put to good use.’ I start retying the rope and pat Mercury, who is looking away from Freddie, as if embarrassed.
Grace has her breakfast and I have mine: tea, soda bread and some of Frank’s honey.
There’s no way I’m going to spend the day moping, I decide, lifting my chin. I need to keep busy. I know, I’ll tackle the old barn where the tables and chairs are kept, see if there’s anything else that might be useful for the festival.
I make myself another cup of tea and then pick up the bunch of keys from the hook by the door. Slipping on my wellies and hat, I make my way down to the old barn. I use the rusty key and open the stiff door, pushing it open as wide as I can. My eyes have to adjust to the dark. There’s piles of old benches and long wooden tables, a big old oil drum barbecue and boxes of junk. I push back my sleeves, take a slug of my tea, and decide to start by taking everything out and seeing what’s there. Sean couldn’t be cross with me for tidying up in here. And if he is, I don’t care. I’m going to do it anyway. It’s my birthday and this is how I’m choosing to spend it.
In France, Sean was feeling … unsettled. Which was a ridiculous way to be feeling. The sun was shining, he was inbeautiful Arcachon with a beautiful woman, enjoying a wonderful lunch, sipping a red wine laid on by his good friend Jean François, Nancy’s father. Sean had bought spat from Jean François when he was starting out, as his uncle had before him. Jean François had been more than happy to cut Sean some slack when it came to settling up, keen for him to get established and carry on his uncle’s tradition. The two older men went way back.
‘You deserve a break,chéri,’ Nancy told Sean. Nancy’s French accent always got stronger when she was actually in France. ‘You have been working very hard, and now you have a new assistant we should be able to spend more time together.’ She sat with one long leg crossed over the other and stroked his arm. She was right; he had needed to get away. He had been feeling … confused. He and Fi had spent a lot of time together and there was no denying how he’d felt the day he’d taught her to shuck oysters. He had come to care about Fi. She worked hard. But she was his employee. He had come close to wanting to step over that fine line the other morning, and he’d promised her that that would never happen, and it mustn’t. Maybe it was a good thing he and Nancy were spending time together, with her family.
