Every single one of Jean François’s words made sense to Sean. He looked at Nancy.
Henri and Nancy’s heads seemed to be getting closer and closer as they held one hand and wrapped the other around each other’s waists. Sean wondered if Nancy remembered he was there at all. Jean François and Monique seemed embarrassed and Sean felt for them. They were such good people. Strangely, he didn’t feel much himself, just an overwhelming desire for it to be over.
Without Nancy, Sean would lose his farm, but without Fi his heart would be empty. He remembered her words: ‘Watch yourself, don’t get hurt.’ He looked at Nancy again.
‘I think I may have to lose something I love,’ he said out loud to Jean François. ‘Nancy is a wonderful woman,’ he said, ‘but I can’t marry her.’ Sean was dying inside, thinking about the pain he must be causing this dear couple.
But suddenly Jean François was smiling. ‘You will always be family to us, whether you and Nancy are married or not. Let me give you some words of advice. If you find someone you love, hold on to her very tight. Nothing is more important than love,’ he said and Monique nodded, looking back at Nancy and Henri.
‘They have been in love since they were eight. They’re just too scared to admit it yet. Both too in love with business to have room for love in their lives. Don’t be scared of love, Sean. It’s a gift.’ Monique held her husband’s hand.
Sean watched Nancy and Henri for a moment more and then put down his untouched champagne, kissed Jean François and Monique on both cheeks and walked out, just as the singer announced a toast ‘to the happy couple’ and everyone cheered.
As the sun starts to creep up over the horizon, the wind has all but gone and I can see the final few bags that have blown up the shore and onto the bog land beside and behind the sheds. I moor the boat and put the bags in the shed.
When I reach the cottage I find I’m absolutely shattered. Every bone in my body is aching and I’m soaked. My stomach turns over and I find myself rushing to the toilet where I’m sick. I turn on the shower and let hot water pour over me, grateful that it hasn’t chosen this morning to play silly buggers. My knees are like jelly. The sun is creeping up into the sky and it looks like it’s going to be a nice day. Once I’m dry, I dress, and give Grace a final pat on the head.
‘Your master’ll be back soon,’ I assure her, and then I pick up my passport and my bag and head for the door. I can’t look back at her. I feel like I’m abandoning her. And it’s so hard, but it’s for all the right reasons.
I can hear a car coming down the lane, which has saved me a walk, as I’m struggling to put one foot in front of the other. I take a final look at the bay. I know I’m leaving having done my best for it and Sean. I turn back to see Sean’s red van pulling into the gates. Behind it is the hackney.
Sean jumps out of the van.
‘I just heard it on the news, about the storm.’ He looks around worried. ‘Are you OK?’
‘They’re all in the shed. They’re all safe,’ I say wearily, and walk to the hackney that’s turning round. I get in, watching Sean pull back the shed doors. I don’t think he’s realised I’m leaving and I think quite possibly that’s for the best.
‘Galway coach station, please. I’m catching the bus to Shannon airport.’ Then I sit back and close my eyes so I can’t see the town as I leave.
Chapter Forty-two
‘Fallen tree in the storm last night. Whopper, wasn’t it?’ says David the driver as we stop and start our way into Galway. I open my eyes, agree with him, then stare out to sea. But the more I stare the more I keep thinking I can see a red sail in the distance. Probably tiredness.
I feel wretched. I’ve let it happen all over again. I’m humiliated and hurt, only this time it’s much worse. I feel angry with Sean for settling for his loveless marriage, but more than anything I’m angry with myself for letting myself fall in love. The one thing I said I didn’t want to do. I shut my eyes again all the way to the coach station.
Sean watched as the red hackney drove over the bridge and up into Galway city centre. There was no way he could get to her now. Even if he moored here in the harbour, he’d never make it up to the coach station on foot. He’d tried everything to catch up with the hackney and stop her from going. He sat down in the boat and it bobbed to and fro, almost as if it was panting from the exertion of the wild run into the city.
‘Hey, nice boat, mister,’ some young boy called from his jostling group of friends who were eating sausage rolls from paper bags and throwing crumbs to the waiting swans.
‘Give us a ride,’ another shouted and pushed his mates playfully.
Sean gathered the ropes together and prepared to turn the boat about. She’d chosen to go and he hadn’t hadthe chance to tell her how he felt. He’d been wrong about Nancy and he’d been wrong to try and run away and hide from his feelings for Fi. She’d saved his oysters but stolen his heart, and now she’d gone it hurt like hell. He pulled at the ropes and the hooker began to come round, heading for home. The heron landed on the brow of the boat. Even he’d struggled to keep pace with Sean, but he’d kept going, never doubting he’d find him. Sean set off again as did the heron. The heron knew his way home. Sean just hoped that Fi did too.
Chapter Forty-three
I’m on autopilot as I go through security and visa inspection. I’ve bought a bag from one of the airport shops and packed the contents of my black bin liner into it.
I’m checked in and my bag is on its way to the plane. I go into the departures lounge and look up at the screen. My plane’s delayed. I sigh, and then see a computer offering internet access. I decide to have one last peek at the festival website, just to kill the time. The live feed should be up and running now, organised by Dan’s TV company. I type in the oyster festival and a message flashes across the screen: ‘Venue flooded. Festival postponed until further notice.’
I’m in shock. All that work, all that effort and the oysters won’t even get their moment of glory. I log out and head for a seat. I wonder if they’ve noticed I’ve gone. Was anyone trying to contact me? Of course they’ve noticed. Gerald will be wondering where his brownies are, Patsy will be wondering why I’m not there to help set up the bar, Chef will be shouting for his oysters, Margaret will be running round like a headless chicken now the venue’s been ruined. I suddenly feel very weepy.
I go to pull out some loo roll from my pocket and find Brian’s letter. I’m holding the letter and before I know it I’m ripping apart the thick cream envelope. I pull it out and can see the creases where it’s been handled, traces that show it’s been read by Nancy. There’s even a faint trace of her perfume. It makes me feel sick. Nancy knows what shewants and she goes out there to get it. Maybe now I finally know what I want, but it’s too late.
Dear Fiona,
I hope this letter finds you and finds you well. If you’re wondering how I knew where to send it I’ve been trying to track you down for ages but had no luck, and then by chance I came across an article online about a new oyster festival in Galway. It was in a newsletter I subscribed to when I was researching the honeymoon. And there you were. It took me a while to recognise you, your name didn’t fit, but it was definitely you, celebrating the launch of the festival.
Shit! It must’ve been taken on the night Dan got the prize money for the shuck-off. I should’ve been more careful.
