‘No worries,’ he says dismissively, standing up himself. ‘Welcome on board. I’ll show you everything you need to know in the morning and explain what I need you to do. Now get yourself to bed, get some rest.’ He waves a hand to shoo me out good-naturedly. ‘I’ll be out with my hooker first thing if you want to join me. Don’t decide now, let me know in the morning.’
The words hang in the air. I turn slowly and creep out of the room and into my bedroom. I shut the door firmly. Had I heard him right? I mouth the words to myself. ‘His hooker? He’s a pimp!’
I look around and then grab the chair, propping it under the door handle. I’m furious I’ve let myself be lulled into a false sense of security by a fluffy omelette and some homemade bread, even if it was delicious. Maybe it was poisoned, with that date drug stuff … I look out of my window to see if I can jump. It’s pitch black, and I have no idea where I am. I can’t go anywhere until it’s light. I crawl into the bed and sit there with the covers up to my neck and my knees to my chest. There is no way I can let myself fall asleep.
Chapter Four
A noise catapults me from a deep sleep. My heart’s racing. My cotton-wool-stuffed head shoots up from where it’s been face down in the pillow. My vision is blurry. I haven’t slept like that in weeks. Where am I? It’s light. I quickly reach out for Brian, but he’s not there.
I was dreaming. My pillow’s wet from tears. I was back home, at work in The Coffee House. Everyone was pointing at me, laughing. I could hear my mother’s voice telling me what a fool I’d been. Kimberly, my work mate, telling Betty that Brian was ‘out of my league’. I could hear the laughter of the drivers when they came to take back the camper van. My husband had rung to say there’d been a change of plan. I could hear the laughter of everyone who’d been at my wedding.
There’s a rattle at the door, the same noise as before. I twist round and sit bolt upright, suddenly remembering where I am. I’m in the middle of nowhere with a man who’s gone out with his hooker and has brought me here to work too. I might have been dreaming earlier, but I’m awake now, and right in the middle of a nightmare. How could I have been so stupid? It’s obvious now. He preys on vulnerable young women, bringing them here on false pretences of a job, board and lodgings, and then trafficks them out to who knows where. Why else would he have been delighted that I’d come about the job? I had no qualifications, no family, didn’t know where I was – I was ripe for the picking. He and the Garda must be in on it together. I should’ve seenit coming.
A sharp pain rips through my chest. I clutch it. My heart’s thundering like a drum. My door rattles again. My pounding heart gathers pace. I hold my breath. I can hear heavy breathing outside my door. Oh my God! My eyes are glued to the door handle and the chair wedged under it. There’s a scratching noise. Shit – they’re here! Maybe I wasn’t supposed to wake from that heavy sleep. They’re obviously going to take me from here by boat. No one knows I’m here and no one will know that I’ve gone.
In panic I look around for something heavy to pick up. I’m up on my knees. I shouldn’t have let my guard down, I berate myself. What was I thinking of, taking an offer of a room from a man I didn’t know, in the middle of nowhere? I’ve moved around enough grotty hostels in my time to know that you trust no one. I need to get the hell out of here, right now. I spin round to look at the window as a means of escape. The door rattles again.
‘Get away from the door!’ I make a lunge for the lamp beside my bed, yank it out of the socket and hold it up high. The door stops rattling. There’s a sniff.
‘I’m warning you.’ I stand up on the bed, still holding the lamp above my head. I’m wearing the T-shirt I put on last night, which comes right down to my thighs. I turn to look out the window again and see how big the drop to the ground is when suddenly the door gets an almighty thump. The chair flies away from it, falling with a clatter. I yell as the door flings open.
‘Get away!’ I shout, scaring both me and Grace, who has obviously launched herself at the door with both paws and is giving a greatwoo-woo-woof. She finishes her battle cry and stares at me on the bed. Her jowls are swinging to and fro. We stare at each other, her from the doorway and me from my standing position on the bed. I don’t know who’s more scared.
I jump off the bed, put down the lamp and go to her, rubbing her head and ears. ‘Good girl, sorry if I scared you,’ I say, feeling my heart slowing down.
Grace wags her tail and it thumps against the open door.
‘It’s all OK,’ I tell her as gently as my wavering voice will let me. ‘But I just need to get my stuff together and get out of here.’ Talking to Grace seems to be calming me down. I pick up my Dunnes bag and my little bridal handbag with my passport and a few euros left in it. I slide my sore feet back into the gold shoes and wince. Then I pull on the joggers and hoodie, getting myself tangled in my panic to get out of there.
Grace lies down and puts her chin between her paws, watching me. For some unknown reason I make the bed. It’s habit, when I leave somewhere. Then I look around for signs of Sean. I go to the bedroom door and listen. Nothing, which is eerie in itself. I’m not used to no sound at all. At least back home there’d be the odd siren going off, cars, car alarms, that kind of thing. I take a deep breath and decide to risk it. I give Grace one last rub on the head and then head for the front door. I glance briefly into the cottage’s main room. The mess doesn’t look any better than last night. In fact, in the cold light of day it looks worse. I chance a glance out of the window. I catch my breath. The sea seems so close. I take a step back, but not before I notice that the boat that’d been there yesterday is missing.
I need to get out of here now, take my chance, before I end up thousands of miles away with a pimp and a drug habit. I reach for the door with Grace following me, her head practically in the crook of my knee. It looks wet and grey out there. There’s a jumble of waterproof jackets on the hooks beside the door. It wouldn’t be stealing, I’d just borrow a coat. Perhaps I could send it back as soon as I’m settled elsewhere. Oh for goodness’ sake, I tell myself, just take the coat! The guy’s trying to sell you into the slavetrade; it’s the least he owes you.
I reach up and grab a yellow waterproof jacket, but as I yank and go to run, the whole rack of hooks and the shelf on top comes tumbling down in a heap right in front of the door, blocking my path and my escape.
Chapter Five
‘Ah, for feck’s sake! What have I done?’ Sean looked up. He let the Atlantic blast beat his face, clearing his confused mind and making him feel alive.
His thick, curly hair blew across his face in a cross wind. He grabbed at it and pulled it back into the nape of his neck. Sean shut his eyes. He was tired, but being out here, where he was happiest, was the best rest he could get. It was where he always came to think through his problems. His mind flicked back to his latest dilemma. Had he made a terrible mistake?
He looked up at the deep red sails, the colour of a good red wine. The three sails worked together, scooping up the wind. They were full, deep and cupped like the shape of an oyster.
He knew nothing about this woman other than she’d done some sort of work in food production and a bit of work in the media … oh, and she was English. Other than that, nothing. He breathed in deeply, the fresh salty air giving him the head rush he needed to feel more relaxed, better than any drink he’d ever had.
What if she knew more than she was letting on, hoping to see his set up, find out how he was still making a living at this game? Or maybe she was working for someone else, someone after his land. His mind was whirring with possibilities. Why would a woman with no connections around here rock up out of the blue and want to be his assistant? It just didn’t make sense.
The water lashed at the mahogany sides of the boat.The ropes slapped at the mast as he let out the sails, and his spirits lifted again as he felt the thrill of the boat moving even faster through the water.
She was either just what he was looking for – someone who had no idea about the people around here, him, or his oysters – or she was trying to play him for an idiot.
Sean heard the beating of wings and looked to his left to see his daily companion, a small silver and white heron, keeping pace beside him. His huge wings were moving up and down, carrying his large body as fast as they could. Seagulls dived effortlessly across him, but he kept going, steady and loyal.
Sean’s mind turned to the villagers he’d seen yesterday. He’d watched their gossiping, wondering what he was up to, even having the nerve to ask for work. But let them talk; he’d put up with their gossip and their doubtful looks when he’d first arrived and moved in with his uncle all those years ago. It was the same when he finally took over the farm. Their silly chatter didn’t bother him. He didn’t want to give them anything to really talk about, though, which was why when he’d met Fi she’d seemed like the answer to all his problems. Now, though, he wasn’t quite so sure.
He looked across at the little town and the coastline around it, bare, rural, rugged bog. It was in those waters that the real jewels lay. He looked towards the other side of the bay. Over there they had a reputation for having the best oysters just about anywhere in the world, just like Dooleybridge once had. But not any more. Oyster farmers had gone out of business. Families had packed up and moved away, gone to the city or abroad. Nothing had ever been the same since the rumours had started just before his uncle died. He swallowed hard. Over there they had everything that the community on this side of the water had lost.
A large wave hit the front of the boat. It dipped and rose, sending an arc of cold spray over him. He stood up andlet out a tension-releasing roar. He teased and cajoled the sail ropes, urging the boat to go even faster. Still the grey and silver heron kept pace, despite its ungainly body.
