The Oyster Catcher (8 page)

Chapter Fifteen

He’s standing in front of the window; a man in a baseball cap, blocking out the sunset. He’s turning slowly, holding his hands up in front of his face at arm’s length, his fingers making a rectangle shape. He’s turning towards me!

I snatch up the towel and just manage to throw it around me, clutching it to my chest before he turns and looks straight through his fingers at me. I don’t know who’s more shocked, but finally I manage to shriek and then so does he, dropping his hands, his sunglasses falling from his forehead to his face and clutching both his hands on top of his head, he runs.

Shit! No way is all our hard work going to be jeopardised now! I throw back the bathroom door with a bang. ‘Sean, Sean!’ I run into the kitchen.

‘Sean!’ I yell again at the top of my voice, above his music and his singing. Even Grace takes a while to notice me from her place in front of the fire. The room’s full of the most amazing smells; caramelised meat, red wine, herbs, roasting potatoes,  coming from the oven.

Sean’s standing with his back to me at the kitchen work surface. There’s a lamp plugged in on the side throwing light on to the chopping board he’s wiping down.

‘SEAN!’

He finally spins round. Grace jumps up and barks. Clutching the towel I lunge forward and press the off button on the CD player.

‘Oh good God!’ he says, suddenly making me very aware that I’m standing in his kitchen with just a towel wrapped round me.

‘Never mind good God! This is urgent! There’s one of those pirates, oyster thingies, in a hat, outside the window,’ I garble and point towards the big window. Sean doesn’t need any more explanation. He throws down his kitchen knife and is at the door in two strides calling Grace behind him. Grace jumps into action, letting out her war cry. He throws back the door and stepping into his wellington boots, runs outside, behind Grace who’s giving chase to a black 4x4 that’s showering gravel in its wake.

Stepping into my wellies I follow too, watching Grace as she barks for all she’s worth but the truck’s disappearing down the lane. Sean’s shaking his head, having given up running after it. He’s bent over holding his knees. I’m still on the steps, anxiously wondering what damage they’ve done. Slowly Sean stands up and begins walking back towards me still shaking his head.

‘I don’t recognise the car,’ he frowns. ‘Could be from out of town.’ He calls Grace to him and makes a fuss of her.

The yard itself still looks immaculate. A far cry from when I first arrived. Broken fencing has been fixed. Wetsuits and wellies have been tidied and even the little bit of grass on the bank is trimmed. The front door of the old barn has been painted and I even planted up a few wall flowers I bought in Rose’s petrol station in some old lobster pots and put them either side of the old barn door.

‘I’m going to check the sheds and the stock,’ Sean calls over his shoulder. ‘Keep an eye on the dinner,’ and stalks away.

‘No wait, I can help.’ I start to follow. He turns, puts his hands on his hips and raises an eyebrow.

‘I don’t think so,’ he says like a school teacher dealing with a challenging pupil. I bristle. He obviously still thinks I’m the wet behind the ears, girl from the city. I go to put my hands on my hips and remind him who’s done most of the tidying round here, when the towel slips a little and I remember it’s all I’m wearing. A black cloud suddenly gathers over my head. A tiny smile tugs at the corner of Sean’s mouth, at least I think it’s a smile, and now that the immediate panic is over, I’m suddenly feeling very awkward. The dark cloud lowers over me and begins to sting my skin. A gang of mosquitoes is obviously settling in for a full-on feast. I run inside, straight back to the bathroom where I let the towel drop, rub my hair madly and then jump straight back into the shower.

When I re-emerge fully dressed into the kitchen, which still smells divine, Sean’s back inside and the living room’s had a change round. He’s moved the table and pushed the settee up in order to be able to look out of the window at the oyster beds. He’s peering at them through big, heavy binoculars. I straighten a box of fallen paperwork.

‘You keep an eye out while I serve up,’ he hands me the binoculars. ‘The last thing we want is for the bastards to come back tonight.’ The binoculars are heavier than I expected. I step forward and take over where he’s been standing. It’s awkward negotiating the newly positioned settee and table. Nothing else has been moved to make space for them and as I step forward, so does he. Just for a moment we’re chest to chest and I try to tilt myself back so as not to be touching but nearly topple backwards. He catches my elbow. I catch my breath. Just for a moment we hold each other’s stare and my insides unexpectedly leap. I look away quickly. It’s not good to be this close and intimate with your employer, I scold myself, even if it is only for one more day.

He’s wearing his blue knitted jacket with the hood. Its toggles press into me, emphasising how close we were. Just for a second or two I realise I’ve stopped breathing and when I start again my chest rises up and down even more than before. I practically fall onto the settee, snatching the binoculars from him as I go.

‘Heavy aren’t they?’ I chirp, trying to forget the closeness we’ve just encountered. Just for a moment I felt like my whole body had been kick-started from a hundred-year sleep.

‘They were my uncle’s. There was many a night I sat here with him watching for oyster pirates.’ He looks out to sea as if enjoying a cherished painting.

‘You love it here, don’t you?’ I say, seeing his face soften.

‘I do.’ He looks back at me as if I wasn’t just the hired help any more, but someone who understood what he was trying to say. It was like seeing through a tiny chink in the armour. ‘Which is why I have to pass the inspection tomorrow.’ Then he turns quickly towards the kitchen and I look out to sea with the binoculars. It’s like wearing 3D glasses to the cinema, designed to exaggerate your worst nightmares. It’s a small step, but there’s no way I could have done this four weeks ago.

‘Food’s up!’ Sean hands me a loaded plate. It’s piled high with steaming mashed potato, golden, crumbly pastry, chunks of beef, and dark brown, rich gravy spreading across the plate. ‘Hope you like pie.’ He hands me a fork and then steps over my legs to sit down next to me. ‘I know you won’t eat oysters, but I thought you might be all right with this.’

I look down at my plate as his jean-clad thighs reach over me. I move up the settee as far as I can. Honestly, you’d think I’d never been near a man before, instead of living with one for five years before marrying him; but then, on second thoughts, I never really got to know him, did I?

‘Right, eat up and then I’m going to stay up and keep watch. You can go to bed if you like.’ He starts tucking into his plate of hot potato and pie. I dig in too. It’s so good it’s like being wrapped up in a goose-down duvet. Behind us the fire keeps cheerily warming the room. I fork the beef into my mouth. Then I put my fork into something I don’t recognise. I pick it up and look at it, sniff it and look at it again. Sean is mid-mouthful but can’t help but laugh.

‘OK, you got me.’ He holds up a hand and is fully enjoying his own joke. I look at him accusingly.

‘You wouldn’t eat them raw so I thought I’d try them cooked.’

‘Oysters? In the pie?’ I’m actually enjoying the joke too.

‘Just try one.’ He hands me the ketchup from beside him on the floor. ‘Try it with ketchup. Beef and oyster pie; it’s a classic combination.’

‘Really?’ I look at it again and then stick my tongue out and try to taste it by licking a little bit of sauce from it.

‘I’m sorry, I can’t.’ I still can’t explain my whole bad relationship with the sea. ‘What if it was a bad one, what if I got sick?’ I say wildly, hoping he’ll be fooled.

‘You’ve pulled it from the sea yourself. It couldn’t be fresher!’

I know he’s right, but I just can’t handle it. I shake my head and put my forkful down on my plate and he scoops it up and eats it. I pick out the rest of oysters to his gentle laughter beside me, but finish the rest of the pie and scrape the plate clean.

‘Thank you, that was delicious. Be even nicer without the oysters,’ I joke and take his plate.

‘You don’t know what’s good for you, English!’ He shouts after me as I head to the kitchen.

‘I’ll wash up,’ I say and he moves into my place and picks up the binoculars. Things have definitely thawed in our working relationship. I’ll almost be sorry to go if we carry on getting on like this. Grace follows me, ever hopeful of a few scraps. I can’t even say how much I’m going to miss Grace. Once I’m settled I’m going to get a dog of my own, I decide. No more living in flats with no-pet policies. I wash up and am drying my hands with the tea towel when I realise how important tomorrow is to me too.

‘I’ll stay up too.’ I say.

He looks up from his binoculars as if pleasantly surprised.

‘You don’t have to.’

‘I do. I’d hate it if anything happened now, before I went,’ I add. There’s a moment’s silence.

‘You’ve decided then, you’re moving on?’

I fold the tea towel more times than it needs folding. ‘Yes,’ I say quietly, unfolding the tea towel and putting it on the work surface. ‘It’s been great, but I don’t think I’m ever going to make it as an oyster farmer.’

He tries to keep a straight face but can’t and we both laugh.

‘I’ll advertise, after the inspection,’ he says with gentle resignation.

‘Make sure it’s someone who doesn’t mind the wet,’ I tell him, putting on the kettle. ‘And who wears size six wellington boots.’

‘And someone who eats oysters,’ he joins in, going back to looking out of his binoculars. ‘I never did get you out on the hooker,’ he says as if he genuinely thinks I’m missing out on one of life’s greatest pleasures. I pull out mugs to make one tea and one coffee.

‘Well, the hooker and I didn’t get off to a great start, did we?’

His face breaks into another rare smile behind the binoculars.

‘And make sure it’s someone who’s good with geese,’ I add realising that he really isn’t quite so bad after all, even quite fanciable in a grumpy kind of way. 

Chapter Sixteen

‘We can take it in turns to sleep and keep watch.’ Sean looks up as I hand him his coffee. This time I have to step over his legs to get into the settee. Not easy with a boiling hot cup of tea. Grace once more fills the gap in between our feet and the wall and I pull my feet up around me, wrapping my hands around my cup. We slip back into silence and our own thoughts.

I look out to sea. It seems fairly flat tonight, apart from the waves crashing against the rocks in the distance.

I sit staring out at the bay. Sean sits staring out at the bay. I try to think of something to talk about, but my mind is blank. Part of me is wishing I’d taken the offer of going to bed, but that wouldn’t have been fair. I’d be gone after the inspection. I’d worked hard for it too and I didn’t want it sabotaged by some measly oyster pirate. The silence went on, but for the occasional lapping of the water, the wind whistling through the poorly fitted window frames, the fire occasionally fizzing, and Grace’s snoring. This could be a long night.

‘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.