‘I think we’ve said all that needs to be said. This place means the world to you. You have to hang on to it and Nancy’s your best bet for that,’ I say, and a few more tears roll down my cheeks. I swipe them away. ‘I’m leaving, Sean. It’s time for me to move on. I’ve paid my debt.’ Still the tears roll.
He steps closer to me. ‘You could stay. If this goes well tomorrow and we sell the oysters, there’s plenty of work for you, you don’t have to go.’
‘I think we both know that I do.’ I wipe away the tears and try not to sniff. ‘Just … watch yourself. Look after you. Don’t get hurt trying to hang on to something you love.’ He frowns. He looks like he’s going to say something, but I don’t want to hear it.
‘You have to go,’ I hurry him along.
‘Look, let’s sleep on it. We can work it out. See you tomorrow, yeah?’ he says.
‘Yeah,’ I say, knowing that I won’t. There’s nothing else to talk about. I’ll be gone by dawn, it’s all arranged. David, the postman who doubles up as the hackney driver, is picking me up. Soon I’ll be taking ‘cabs’, not ‘taxis’ or ‘hackneys’. My flight’s booked. This time tomorrow, while the oysters are being served, I’ll be on my way to my new life in the States.
‘Are you going to the festival? The shucking competition?’ I ask.
‘No, I don’t feel part of this place. Maybe I never will. But at least now I can show them my uncle was right, these waters are clean. The cleanest. We have the oysters to show for it.’ He breathes in. Nancy was right. This placemeans everything to him and he’d never risk that.
‘Right, see you tomorrow.’
The rain hits my window and slides down it like tears. I pull out a large black bag. This takes me right back to when I was growing up. My mum would come home, produce a roll of value bin bags, and I’d know we were on the move again. At least this time I know where I’m going, well, on paper anyway. Dan has organised an apartment for me. Mary Jo is meeting me at the airport and taking me out to dinner. Then there’s a week’s handover and my new life will begin. It’s everything I could want, an office job dealing with all Dan’s engagements, his public appearances, his book publications, and all his media work. I’ll be doing what I do best, working behind the scenes. It’s what I did for Brian and I know I can do it for Dan. I fold the work clothes I’ve lived in: the cut-off jeans that became shorts, the joggers Sean found for me and the rest of the eclectic mix of clothes I’ve gathered since I’ve been here. I fold away the wedding dress that Maire altered. I doubt I’ll wear it again.
Once I get to Boston, Dan’s going to give me an advance to help get me settled. I’ll go shopping and buy some work clothes. I wonder what kind of shops there will be? Big department stores, all bright lights and fragrance in the air. I try and smile to myself; it’s a long way from Dooleybridge, Gerald’s café and Rosie’s petrol station. Back to being in a city again where everything is to hand: shops, theatres, cinemas and cafés.
The wind is picking up outside. I hope it doesn’t rain too much and make the lane difficult to get down. I’ll walk to the end of it to get the hackney, I decide. He’s due at six tomorrow morning. I doubt I’ll sleep at all tonight.
The wind outside is picking up and I go to the front door to check how bad it is. Grace comes with me as she usually does. I’m going to miss her so much. Maybe oneday, when I’m settled, I’ll be able to have a house and a dog of my own. I rub her head as I look at the waves starting to roll in.
I go back into the cottage, stoke the pot-bellied stove with turf. There have been so many things I’ve done that I never thought I’d do: the sailing, the market stalls, the oyster eating. The butterflies rush in and do their crazy dance in my stomach again. I touch the pearl around my neck and undo the necklace. I put it on the table and head to bed.
I’m woken by a crash and a whoosh. I think someone’s breaking into the house. Grace is howling. My mouth goes dry. Coming round, I realise it’s not the plane crash I was dreaming about; there’s a storm outside, doing its worst. The one that was due to miss us, no doubt! I don’t know what the time is; there’s been a power cut. I grab a torch and grapple for my clothes.
‘Shh, Grace, it’s OK,’ I tell her, although my heart’s still racing. I pull on the hat and waterproofs that I hadn’t planned on wearing again. I open the door a little and it flies open. I look at my mobile phone hopelessly. Why should I think there’s going to be any signal here tonight? But it does tell me the time: ten past twelve. I shove it back in my pocket. Sean and Nancy’s party will be in full swing. Then there’s a huge gust and I clutch my hands over my mouth as I watch a mesh bag full of the oysters, Sean’s native oysters, get ripped from its trestle table; the elasticated ropes must have given up. It flies across the bay and lands some way away on the rocks.
I shake my head and then watch the next and then the next bag fly off its mooring. ‘No, no, no!’ I scream out loud. ‘Noooooooo!’ My face is screwed up. My stomach is in knots. ‘Please, no more …’
What if the storm hasn’t even reached Galway and Sean is blissfully unaware of what’s going on? Everythinghe cares about is being trashed right in front of my eyes. I turn back to the cottage. I’d like to think this isn’t my problem any more, that I could just walk away. I get as far as the house when I hear more bags ripping away from their tables and splashing through the water.
Oh God! All that work, for nothing. I can’t let this happen again. I’ve run away from everything that has gone wrong in my life, just like my mum, but I don’t want to be like her. I can’t do it this time. I run round to the sheds, pull back the big doors and grab a lifejacket. I put it on, take a huge breath and head towards the jetty where the boat is moored.
But it’s no use, the storm’s too rough. I’ll be tossed out of the boat as soon as I sit in it. I wait and watch for the next two hours, my fingers in my mouth, as each bag flies in a different direction, making a mental note of where they’ve gone. When the storm begins to recede I run back down to the boat. It’s still rough but I untie the first rope and then the second. The boat sways violently in the wind. I can’t get in. I jump down into the chest-high water. I bounce and jump but can’t make it into the boat. My arms don’t have the strength. I bounce and jump again. The boat begins to move. Oh God, I’ll lose the boat as well at this rate. I give an almighty jump this time and tumble head first into it, rolling onto my back.
I’ve done it before, I can do it again, I tell myself, as the Greek holiday comes flooding back. I push it to one side. I have let my fear of ‘what if’ hold me back for too long. What if I don’t do anything! Now that will be a regret.
I grab hold of the rudder. Grace is watching from the shore. I can see the green glints in her eyes as I swing the torch round and suddenly the boat takes off at a lick.
‘Argh!’ I scream and I tumble backwards. I can see the corner of an oyster bag in my torch light, poking up in the water. I steer the boat towards it and scoop it up, dripping with water and seaweed.
‘One!’ I shout at Grace who barks back. A wave crashes against the boat, knocking me sideways. I quickly put the bag in the boat and grab the rudder. I guide the boat around the bay. Slowly it’s starting to get light. At one point I have to put down the anchor and, summoning all my courage, jump out of the boat again. The water is up to my chest and I climb up the rocks and grab another two bags. I can see some other bags have blown into the bay next door. I get back in the boat and head further out. The wind fills the sail and it takes all my strength to guide the boat round the bay.
In the restaurant the party was in full swing. It was late, well into the early hours of the morning, but no one seemed to care. Sean sighed. A long buffet table was being constantly reloaded and glasses of champagne topped up. There were purple and silver helium balloons on the tables and soft jazz music filled the air, taking the edge off the forced laughter. Waitresses walked around offering bottles or trays of bite-sized delights. But none of it tasted of anything to Sean. The only good thing was that Jean François and Monique, Nancy’s parents, were there. In fact they were about the only people Sean recognised – apart from Henri, that is. Sean had never liked Henri and had given him a wide berth all night. As had Nancy, surprisingly, until now.
Jean François, Monique and Sean had been sitting at a table all night, trying to discuss the worries of the French oyster farmers and the good news about the native oysters.
‘Your uncle would be so proud of you,’ Jean François told him, putting his hand over Sean’s. ‘We are proud of you.’
Monique nodded in agreement. ‘You are like family to us.’
The band had slowed things down and people were getting up to dance together, some propping each other up. Henri and Nancy seemed to gravitate towards each other,Sean noticed, as did Jean François and Monique.
‘Nancy is a very determined lady,’ Jean François said. ‘She is driven and knows what she wants. She can’t bear the thought of being poor again, like she was growing up. We did our best, but oyster farmers like us, we weren’t rich. But I was in here,’ he banged his fist to his heart. Monique nodded in agreement. ‘My heart was full because I loved what I did and I loved my family.’ He put his arm around Monique, who blushed and smiled. ‘It is your heart that matters in life. Make sure it is always full.’
