The Oyster Catcher, page 10
‘I’d put some music on.’ Sean’s obviously feeling my awkwardness, ‘But it’s best we listen out for that 4x4 coming back.’
‘Of course, yes,’ I say. He doesn’t take his eyes away from the binoculars. I try playing I-spy with myself but it just doesn’t work. Then counting seagulls; anything to stop my mind wandering back to home and what Brian and Adrian would be doing now. Hours pass. The sun finally sets and darkness draws in.
‘Tell you what, how about a drink? Just something to sharpen us up,’ Sean says standing up. The tiredness is coming in waves. ‘Call it a leaving drink,’ he smiles.
‘OK,’ I say, grateful for the distraction.
‘You hold these.’ He hands me the binoculars like a baton in a relay. I hold them up to my eyes. There’s just the odd light on the other side of the bay. He takes a large step over Grace and me. I lean back against the settee as far as I can. Perhaps a cup of tea is just what I need. Suddenly the lights in the room go out. My eyes take time adjusting. I turn and can just about see Sean by the light switch.
‘Thought it would help us see out.’
‘Oh yes, of course.’ I look back at the dark outside. The moon is throwing a dim light on the ripples. It makes me shiver. I can’t imagine what it would be like to be out on the water tonight. Whoever he was, the oyster pirate, he must be a madman, wild, impetuous. I look at Sean in the reflection in the window, lit up by the lamp on the work surface. I’m thinking about the oyster pirate I remind myself, not Sean!
He comes back and hands me a glass with a small amount of golden liquid in the bottom; whiskey. I take it in surprise. The smell alone makes my eyes smart. I can’t think that I’ve ever drunk whiskey. I know it sounds daft but I really don’t think I have. Sean reaches over me again and sits down, taking the binoculars back.
‘At least now we should be able to see any lights,’ he nods out to the dark sea. He turns to me, raises his glass, ‘Slainte,’ he says and sips.
‘Do you speak Irish?’ I hold the glass near my mouth. My eyes are still burning from the fumes. Sean takes another sip and shakes his head.
‘This area hasn’t been Irish-speaking for years. Besides which I’m a blow-in. My uncle was born and bred here. But he was married to my aunt, my mother’s sister. I grew up in Dublin, in a manner of speaking.’ He takes another sip of his drink and I put the family tree together in my head. He doesn’t elaborate any more. I blink a lot as I hold the glass to my lips. It would be rude not to try it. I take my first burning sip. I can feel Sean watching me as the liquid fire slides all the way down. I blink a lot and then try to speak. It comes out like a croak.
‘So did you always want to be an oyster farmer?’ I cough.
He sips from his glass then shakes his head, ignoring the croak.
‘Not really. I mean, I always loved this place, but I didn’t have any big plans, not really.’ He doesn’t look as if he’s going to expand. But then he takes another sip and says. ‘I loved coming here when I was younger. Then, when I was travelling, I spent some time in France, with Nancy’s family, working for her dad. My uncle and her dad go way back, competing in shucking competitions together.’
‘So you and Nancy have known each other a long time?’
‘Since we were teenagers.’ He took another sip. ‘I was there just before my uncle got sick. All the other cousins had either moved abroad or had jobs in other areas. I came back to live here with him, and so the farm came to me.’ He sips and so do I. It burns just the same. I grimace just the same and Sean smiles, just the same. ‘It came at the right time for me. What about you?’ Sean picks up the binoculars and looks out before resting them back in his lap and looking back at me.
‘No.’ I twist the glass. I tuck my legs up further, as if curling myself into a sort of ball. ‘I never had any big plans … other than …’
‘What?’ He looks at me with interest. A tiny little dream bubble pops up and then disappears. I look back into the drink,
‘Just get through it I suppose.’
‘That’s a bit pathetic,’ Sean tuts. ‘You must have wanted to do something when you were younger.’
‘No, not really. I liked cooking for people. I liked how it made people feel better.’ Ever since my Mum left me weeks before my 16th birthday and went to Malta to be with her much younger boyfriend, I’d been at Betty’s. I was happy there, I think, tucked away in the kitchen, seeing the empty plates that came back.
‘What about you then?’ I change the subject quickly. ‘What were your big plans?’
‘To play Wembley Arena, obviously!’ He nods to the guitar making me laugh too. I suddenly feel very relaxed, like I’m spending the evening with a friend, and a good-looking one at that. Not that I’m ever going down that route again. I don’t need a man in my life, but being friends is nice. I just wish the excitement in my tummy would settle down.
‘So what happened?’ I take a smaller sip this time and it burns less.
He turns with a wicked gleam in his eye.
‘Life.’ He raises an eyebrow, ‘And oysters …’
‘I can see that,’ I smile. The whiskey is loosening my tongue. ‘Do you know when you talk about oysters your whole face lights up. It’s like you can’t help yourself. I don’t get it, they’re just knobbly shells full of slime really. I don’t get the excitement.’ One small whiskey and I’m playing amateur psychologist with my boss. But all the time I’m asking him about his life, he isn’t pushing me to talk about mine.
‘Knobbly shells full of slime!’ he says, outraged but still smiling. ‘I’ll have you know oysters are the food of the gods! In fact in Roman times they paid for them by their weight in gold.’ He nearly knocks the binoculars from his lap. I grab a cushion from between us and hold it in my lap as I turn to him, interested.
‘Really?’ I’m surprised. ‘I don’t get it. What’s with all the aphrodisiac thing then?’ My tiredness ebbs away.
‘Well, Aphrodite, Greek Goddess of love, is supposed to have sprung forth from the sea in an oyster shell and straight away gave birth to Eros. That’s the mythology behind it. And then of course Casanova was supposed to have eaten 12 dozen oysters at the start of each meal.’ He stands up still talking and goes to fetch the whiskey bottle from the kitchen. He tops up both glasses. I think about saying no but I don’t. The burning sensation is less painful now, more numbing. Almost pleasant. And I realise, I’m enjoying myself. It feels nice just to listen …
‘But the real reason is that oysters are high in zinc which increases a man’s testosterone, making him fertile.’ He sips his drink and so do I, to cover my blushes. But my mouth seems to have taken on a life of its own.
‘You don’t have any children then?’ I ask.
‘No. You?’ he bats back.
‘No,’ I shake my head.
‘What happened?’ he finally asks as if giving me the opportunity to tell him how I ended up there.
‘Life,’ I reply flatly. No matter how much whiskey I’ve had, that piece of my life is still firmly locked away. ‘And a dislike of oysters,’ and we both laugh. Grace wags her tail and it thumps on the floor.
‘Life can be like that.’
I really hope he’s not going to ask me anything else. We lapse into silence again before Sean pipes up,
‘Did you know oysters have two hearts?’ Steering us both into safer waters. ‘And they change sex every year.’ He leans back and kicks off his boots, waking Grace, who lifts her head just for a second before flopping contentedly back to sleep. ‘The native oysters reproduce during the summer months and change sex every time they do so.’
‘Really?’ I find myself screwing up my nose.
‘Yup,’ he confirms and stretches out his legs putting his feet on the windowsill. ‘They can be father and mother to two separate litters in the same year.’
‘Ewww,’ I can’t help but grimace again and he laughs friendlily back.
‘Good job you’re off then and I’m not relying on you to sell my oysters.’ He sips. This is the most relaxed I’ve seen him on dry land. He intermittently picks up the binoculars from his lap and looks out.
‘So what will happen when I go? You’ll need help still. Will Nancy move here eventually?’
Sean splutters into his drink, coughing and laughing. When he clears his airways he says, ‘No, Nancy will never come and live here. Nancy hates it here. Nancy and I have …’ he thought about things for a while. ‘A good partnership. I grow oysters, she sells oysters and in the meantime we … enjoy each other’s company. It works for both of us.’
‘Oh, I thought …’
‘Like I say, it works for both of us. It’s a working partnership and not half as painful as true love. We’re friends, our families are friends, we get each other.’ He looks straight out to sea and that tells me all I need to know. It’s funny, now I’m about to leave I start to realise Sean is almost human. The sea is pitch black now. The living room is only lit by the flickering glow from the fire behind us. The moon has come up silver, big, and bright, casting a light across the water. It suddenly looks very beautiful and calm. Stars appear all around the moon. They are brilliantly bright, twinkling, and making the sky seem deeper than I’ve ever seen; a blanket of stars that I want to travel through, get lost in.
‘Now you see why I love this place so much,’ Sean says softly next to me and I nod not taking my eyes off the sky, feeling like a child enjoying the turning on of the town’s Christmas lights.
‘See that, that’s the Great Bear,’ he points and I see him hesitate, wondering if I know this stuff. But I don’t. I look at the pattern of stars he’s pointing at. ‘And there, the little bear.’ I keep looking where he’s pointing.
‘There!’ he suddenly shouts excitedly, making me spill some of my drink, as a burst of stars arcs across the sky.
‘Was that …’
He nods, his eyes wide with excitement.
‘I’ve never seen a shooting star!’
‘You have now … make a wish,’ he says. I dry my hand on my trousers and do as he says, not feeling ridiculous. I close my eyes and wish that life could always be like this, uncomplicated.
He tops up the glasses again and we both sit back, our feet on the window sill, making up our own silly shapes in the stars. The cushions that were between us have fallen on the floor and Grace is using them as a pillow.
‘That one’s a unicorn,’ I say, pointing, ‘with a wand.’
‘A unicorn, more like a set of drums,’ he argues and points again. I lean in to look where he’s pointing.
‘I can’t see it,’ I say right up against his arm.
‘There,’ he points again and laughs and turns to me. Our faces are up close and for a moment the laughter stops, time seems to stand still and our eyes seem to lock together. I can feel his breath and my stomach flips over and back again. Grace nudges my legs and I fall back to my side of the settee and stare straight out at the stars. Did I just imagine it or could we have kissed if I wanted to?
‘I have never seen anything so beautiful,’ I say focusing my attention back on night’s sky. ‘I didn’t get it before now. All that rain and no real green fields. But I think I get it now.’
‘Get what?’ He takes a sip of whiskey.
‘Why people talk about GalwayBay. Write songs about it, you know. I won’t forget this …’
We carry on, lost in our thoughts and pointing out silly star patterns, eventually leaning shoulder to shoulder, without realising it, as the early hours of the morning set in and until sleep finally comes to both of us.
Chapter Seventeen
‘Whooof, whooooof, whoooof, whooooof!’ Grace’s battle cry catapults me from my deep sleep. I try to move but a sharp pain shoots up through my neck, crippling me. I clutch my neck and lift my head stiffly from its resting place; a shoulder and a denim shirt that I don’t recognise.
‘Where the …?’ My mouth is dry, my head fuzzy. A blast of cold air freezes me as a door opens behind me. Grace jumps up throwing my legs into the air. I go to spin round and a sharp pain shoots up my neck. I am suddenly fully aware of whose shoulder I’ve been sleeping on. I force myself to sit bolt upright, despite it hurting. Beside me, he’s stretching out slowly and yawning loudly. I daren’t look round, I just couldn’t make eye contact. Falling asleep on your boss is about as embarrassing as it gets.
‘Well, well, well,’ the French and Irish voice says behind me. ‘What’s this?’
I’m half standing. The colour drains from my face. I don’t need to spin round to know that Nancy is standing in the doorway. I feel like I’ve been caught with my hands in the biscuit tin.
Sean’s up off the settee, swinging his legs over the arm.
‘Hey Nance.’ He’s over and beside her in a flash, picking up the empty whiskey glasses as he goes. I can’t tell if he’s as embarrassed as me or delighted to see her having had to spend an evening with me. Probably the latter. I hear him kiss her. I re-arrange the cushions on the sofa, hoping my blushes will subside. Although why I’m blushing I have no idea. I’ve nothing to hide. I’ve done nothing wrong; but can’t work out why it feels like I have.
‘Oyster pirates,’ Sean’s explaining, matter-of-factly. But why wouldn’t he be matter of fact? Nothing happened! It’s all in my head. It was the whiskey, the stars, the moonlight, letting down my guard a bit, knowing I’m leaving. Except that in the moonlight and with a couple of whiskeys inside me, either one of us could’ve leant in and taken a kiss if we thought the other one had wanted it too. Thank God he didn’t. I re-arrange the cushions all over again.
‘Tried to take our stock last night,’ he’s explaining from the bathroom. ‘We’ve been taking it in turns to stay on watch.’ And I can’t help but notice he’s told a little white lie. Why? A little jolt passes through me. He can’t be feeling the same as me. He’s probably just trying to save my embarrassment, which is really kind. My mind flits back to his warm breath on my face. Was it me? Or was it him? I can’t remember. I push it aside.
‘Who was it?’
‘Huh?’ I catch my breath and spin round to Nancy, cushion still in hand.
‘The pirates, who was it?’ She’s looking at me for a straightforward answer and I’m staring blankly back.
‘You were watching for oyster pirates. Then what happened?’ she prompts me again and then sighs and turns back to Sean in the bathroom. She must think I’m really stupid. It was what happened, but what also happened was that I began to understand why this place has cast its spell on Sean. How could I explain that the stars had put on some kind of private extravaganza for my benefit and how beautiful it had been? How could I explain that I listened and learnt about oysters and that I saw Sean in a whole new light? I think about his face, how it lit up, he came alive. So different from the grumpy farmer I first met. This is a man who cares, very, very much, and that can’t make him a bad person. In fact, I rather liked the Sean I got to know last night. I liked him a lot.
‘Sean, what happened?’ Nancy’s shouting through the bathroom door. But the sound of taps running drowns her out.
The oyster pirates hadn’t come back, at least I don’t think they did.
I go to the kitchen where the glasses from last night are and put them in the sink. Nancy is looking at them and then back at me. I’m feeling uncomfortable, but I don’t know why, because nothing happened, I repeat in my head. Maybe the problem is that I wish it had. The thought surprises me so much that a glass slips from my hand into the sink I’m filling with hot water and washing up liquid, splashing me with soapy suds.
I turn from the sink clutching my neck which is still locked into a slightly tilted position. ‘I’ll go and check outside.’ I want to get out of there. Nancy’s saying nothing, but I can feel her looking at me as I pass. Her arms are folded, her bright red painted fingernails, vibrant against the black of her smart fitted dress, are tapping.
Then Grace gives out another round of ‘whoooof, whoooooofs’. Sean sticks his head out of the bathroom door.
‘Who’s that?’ He cranes his neck to look down the lane.
‘Just thought I’d come by to wish you luck before the inspector got here. Looks like I’m too late,’ Nancy raises an eyebrow.
‘What?’ Sean and I say together.
‘Looks like the inspector,’ Nancy nods her head towards the drive.
‘It can’t be he’s not due until …’ Sean looks up at the clock above the stove.
‘Shit!’ we say together.
Sean’s pulling on his wellies and I grab my hat and waterproof coat.
‘Oh and by the way,’ Nancy adds. ‘I saw two donkeys making their way across the drive just as I was pulling in.’
‘You get the donkeys. I’ll see the inspector.’ Sean flings open the door just as a short fat man with a clipboard wearing an ill-fitting suit and wellies is getting out of his little white van. Grace is barking at him and he tries shooing her away with his clipboard, making her bark even more. Sean runs over to him and puts his hand on Grace’s head. The man holds his clipboard in front of him like a shield.
‘I’ll do the water’s edge, you do the lane,’ I tell Nancy as I go to run outside. But Nancy doesn’t move. I turn back.
‘Nancy?’
‘Uh?’ She looks as if I’ve asked her to fly to the moon.
‘The donkeys. We need to find them.’
‘Oh, I’m not really a donkey person.’ She waves her painted nails in my direction.
‘This is Sean’s inspection,’ I say slowly but with a growing disbelief. ‘We need to do this … now.’ I surprise myself. She stares as if she’s about to challenge me. I stare right back.
