I take a sharp intake of breath.
‘Of course, the gossip-mongers round here went to town. As if my uncle didn’t have enough to worry about.’
I move further on to the bed so my feet aren’t touching the ground. ‘Like what?’
He looks at me as if a piece of him has been unlocked and he’s right back there. ‘The waters around here had been declared unclean. There was a building firm, bought the land down the lane and were building that estate on the Murphys’ land. Their waste was going right into the waters.’
Finally I’m beginning to see. ‘So the Murphys sold to these builders who were poisoning the waters?’
Sean nods. He’s getting weary. The painkillers must be kicking in, maybe that’s why he’s finally talking so freely.
‘When the builders stopped the work, the waters cleaned up again, but people wouldn’t believe my uncle. The damage had been done. Local orders had been lost. A lot of people went out of business.’
‘And that’s why you sell yours abroad mostly?’ I swing my legs up onto the bed.
‘Means I don’t have to worry about local gossip. And I had restaurant sales in Dublin.’His eyes begin to droop. ‘But now the native oysters are back. That’ll show them … Show them the waters are the cleanest possible.’
I want to make this work for him.
‘Yup, it’s different this time. They’re staying on home turf.’ His eyes shut for a moment. He looks peaceful. Grace is lying by the bed.
I want to tell him, but I can’t. I mustn’t. I go to stand up.
‘Thank you,’ he says sleepily, his eyes open again, ‘for everything.’
‘Sean, about the party. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have …’
‘No, you shouldn’t. But I shouldn’t have left you here to face that thug. I’m sorry. Happy birthday, by the way.’ He rummages around on his bedside table and hands me a little black and gold packet. I open it up and the little pearl necklace drops out. I hold it in my hand and take a sharp breath.
‘It’s beautiful.’
‘Fi, this isn’t easy, but will you come back and work for me? I can’t do it without you. You’re the only one who knows …’
‘I know, about the oysters,’ I nod, and realise that’s not true any more.
‘No, you’re the only one who knows where everything is!’ And I think that’s the closest Sean Thornton has ever come to asking for help.
I go back outside to empty the van, feeling inexplicably happy. I look out to sea and think, I could be there, America, Dan is offering me a ticket out of here. Or I could stay. It’s a no-brainer, but then I don’t think it’s my brain that’s making the decision.
Chapter Thirty-seven
For the next week I rise early, feed the chickens, collect the eggs, retrieve Freddie from his early morning escape, make coffee and breakfast for Sean, and brownies for Gerald. Then I begin the work with the oysters. Every morning I drive the tractor a little further into the water so I have to jump in a little deeper. Then I load the van and drive to one of the farmers’ markets in other nearby towns, setting up my pitch and serving up oysters. With Sean out of action and no hope of him working at the sailing school, it’s the only way.
Come the evening, after doing the farm chores, I deliver the brownies to Gerald and go home to prepare supper for Sean and myself. As the week draws to an end I have blisters on my blisters, my nails are broken and torn, my once-sleek bobbed hair is wavy and long and only contained by the hat I seem to wear all the time. But strangely I feel more alive than I think I ever have. It feels so … real. It’s just me, out in the fresh air, collecting the food that’s to be sold on to keep the farm running. I have never been so tired, but never so content either.
Most evenings it’s some kind of egg supper for Sean and I. The hens are laying every day, their days as battery hens before Sean rescued them a dim and distant past. It feels daft for me to sit in the living room eating alone while Sean eats in his bedroom, so I’ve taken to sitting on the end of his bed while he tells me about the oyster festivals he used to visit, the farms he’s worked on and therestaurants he’s shucked in.
For the first few days he can’t sit up and I have to cut up his food and help him eat it. It’s hard for both of us to start with. Our embarrassment’s almost palpable, him having to rely on me and me having to be so intimate with my boss, a man I’m finding more and more attractive by the day.
‘Nancy called up today,’ he tells me as the week draws to a close. He’s propped up on pillows and I’ve just got back from Moycullen market. There’s another shop-bought baguette beside his bed.
‘Oh, really?’ I say, carrying a tray with mushroom soup and bread on it.
‘She didn’t stay long. You know Nancy. Can’t wait to get away from here, especially when I’m no use to her.’ He looks almost back to his old self.
‘She must be dying to get her hands on you once you’re well.’ I bite my lip. ‘I didn’t mean that to come out like that. I meant you can really get together. I mean, she must miss you.’ My tongue is tying itself in knots as I try hard not to tell him what I heard on the phone, how I think she’s shutting him out of the deal.
Sean shrugs. ‘It worked for us. Neither of us wanted anything more.’ He looks at the tray. The word ‘wanted’, past tense, doesn’t go unnoticed. Am I imagining it? He looks up at me and just for a moment we hold each other’s gaze. I reach down and put his tray in front of him and the back of his hand touches mine, setting off explosions deep inside me.
