Sasshoo Oyster Granny

The oyster farm oysters are not used to being woken at night by an oystercatcher floating on cardboard.

Zizz! Is this a bad dream? It must be.

The oysters close up again.

Bloop. Hmm. Back to oyster dreamland.

Saint Roley has had plenty of time for thinking, on his long voyage.

He has thought of these things:

1: Food.
2: Oars would be handy.
3: Saint Malo is worse off than him.
4: Saint Malo is heading for the horizon.
5: Too bad for Saint Malo.

And then the collision with the oysters, who have gone back to sleep.

But.... there is always one oyster.

Heading for Cancale? asks the One Oyster.

Yes, says Saint Roley.

It's that way, says the One Oyster. I suppose you could do with some oars.

Yes, says Saint Roley.

I've got a pair, says the One Oyster. Would you like them?

Yes, says Saint Roley.

Wait here, says the One Oyster.

He submerges for five seconds and comes up with what looks like an oyster granny, hard, grey and lumpy.

Of course it isn't really his granny. She is long gone. It is her shell, joined at the hinge, close to the umbo.

Granny will row you to Cancale, says the One Oyster. But you must do all the work. Are you okay with that?

Yes, says Saint Roley.

(Note that Saint Roley has learned to say yes, with its difficult consonants).

Here, says the One Oyster, handing Saint Roley the shell of his granny. No need to return her. Bury her in the sand at Cancale. I was fond of my granny.

Yes, says Saint Roley. Sasshoo.

He means thank you. Or perhaps he is sneezing.

No worries, says the One Oyster. Off you go.

Saint Roley has no choice. A wave has taken him anyway.

He floats on the cardboard, contemplating the shell of the granny.

For her to be useful as oars, he should break her apart.

But she was someone's granny.