Marriage & the Mermaid (Hapless Heroes) (22 page)

“Are you going to ask her to marry you?”

Baz blinked. For a ridiculous moment he thought his father was talking about marrying Venus, and maybe
that’s
why he’d taken a dislike her. Then he remembered they were discussing Wynne.

“She might have a potty mouth,” Ted went on, “but I think she’d be good for you, Balthazar. She’s got spunk.”

“Spunk?” Baz couldn’t get his head around this, particularly in light of the discussion at lunch about Beth only being after his money and how that was
fine
, and he should never have divorced her. Now, in a complete turnaround his father wanted to marry him off to Wynne who he’d also scathingly pointed out was ‘working class’.

“It’s about time you settled down and had children. Otherwise who will you hand Saltwood to when you die? It has to stay in the family.”

Baz simply stared at his father. In the first place there was nothing an adult wanted to hear less than their own good ideas thrust upon them by a parent è especially an irresponsible parent — and secondly, “If your friend Randolph has his way there won’t be any
Saltwood
left for my heirs to inherit.”

Ted got that same look on his face that he’d produced for the police – his patronizing,
my silly son
expression. “What are you talking about?” he said. “Randolph advises me. He isn’t involved in the running of
Saltwood.”

“Can you really be this credulous?” Baz wasn’t sure if he wanted to slap his father, or cry. The tension of the last few days felt like it was building up inside him like hot magma inside a volcano. “That piece of paper you so blithely sent off gives him the right to sell
Saltwood
and keep the money for himself.”

Ted recoiled from that. “What utter nonsense! You’re making that up. You just don’t want me to have friends. You
like
me being lonely and depressed.”

“That’s crap!”

“Don’t you swear at me –”

“Crap isn’t swearing. If I called you a fuckwit,
that
would be swearing.”

Baz watched as arteries blocked somewhere in Ted’s body, causing blood to pool in his face and neck. He spluttered but no words came out and Baz, who had every right to be completely pissed off, suddenly felt contrite.

“Look, I’m sorry, dad,” he said. “I know you don’t like swearing.”
And please don’t have a heart attack, okay?

Ted’s eyes narrowed and eventually his head jerked into a nod.

“I’ll try to stop swearing.”

“You’re … a
b … bad
boy.”

Baz took several calming breaths before he replied. “Is that why you trust Randolph more than you trust me?”

“Exactly!”

The effect of the calming breaths evaporated and suddenly he felt as though he was standing outside himself. “Then maybe you should be talking to
him
about getting married and settling down.” he spat at his father. “After all, he’s the one who’s got
Saltwood
now!” That wasn’t entirely true. Baz intended to fight tooth and nail for his home, but he was sick of his father screwing things up, sick of being blamed, not to mention the stress of Venus turning his life inside out and involving him in lies to the police. Then there was Wynne. He was over–stimulated and ready to vent angst in pretty much any direction he could, so he blurted, “Why don’t you bring your little bum boy here so you can show him what he’s tricked you out of? Or have you already had him here? Is that why he’s your
good
boy?”

Ted’s hand came up and connected with Baz’s cheek in a slap that rattled his brains. “She always wanted to get away from you!” Ted spat. “Now I know why. She h … hated you, and I do too.”

Baz stood with his hand on his cheek, barely registering the physical pain his father had just inflicted. The shock that had pushed him outside himself deepened.
Hated me?
He shook his head. It couldn’t be true. But even as he thought that, an image came to him of his mother, the last time he’d seen her, her eyes wild, shaking his shoulders. It had terrified him.

“She didn’t drown accidentally,” his father said, his voice lowered now, pain etched onto his own features. “She deliberately —”

“No!” Baz bumped into a banana lounge, then realised he’d been backing up. He moved around it, staring at his father as if he was a cobra poised to strike. “No. She drowned. You
said…
The police said.” His voice was rising, trying to block out anything else his father might say. “You can’t change the facts to hurt me.”

But somehow, he already had.

In some deeper part of his mind Baz was reliving an alternate past, reacting to news that his mother had killed herself to get away from him. The childhood pain he’d suffered, knowing she was gone from him forever, was nothing compared to this. They’d been so close. Inseparable. Could she have only pretended to love him? His heartbeat slowed into a deep mournful thudding at she stared at his father, everything inside him tightening, becoming brittle, as though preparing to shatter.

“
Fuck … you …
“ he whispered, so gutted he couldn’t even lash out properly. Then he turned and stumbled away into the dark, ending up on the garden path, scratching his shoulder and a cheek on a rose bush as he passed. The sound of the ocean was drawing closer, then suddenly Baz couldn’t hold the pain in any more. Sobbing sucked the breath from his chest and stuck daggers in its place. At the cliff top he fell to his knees and covered his face in his hands but it wouldn’t abate. If anything, his crying got worse. Totally out of control.

Baz would have been frightened of it if there had been any part of him capable of independent analysis. But there wasn’t. He was completely immersed in grief, so deep down that nothing else existed for him. He was eight years old again and in that state of mind there was no Venus waiting in the cabana. No Wynne getting dressed for dinner. No Randolph about to steal his inheritance. And no father who needed to be cared for.

Balthazar Wilson was completely lost, and as he curled around himself in the foetal position and stuffed knuckles into his mouth, he wished he could swim out into the ocean and drown himself.

Chapter Twenty–Six

W
ynne looked around the cavernous dining room, wondering where everyone was, and what she should do. Part of her was seriously cranky with Baz. He’d left her sitting in her room until eight thirty, and now, finally deciding to come out alone, she’d discovered that dinner was clearly over and cleaned away. Not a crumb left on the long, white damask tablecloth. So, was this part of some make–Wynne–jealous plan? Was she supposed to suspect he’d been spending the time with Venus?

Wynne took a deep breath and smoothed a hand down the front of her cocktail dress, an A–line classic that stopped just above her knees. The fabric was silky and cool, shimmering into different shades of blue as she moved, and Wynne knew it looked beautiful on her. She’d been counting on Baz seeing that too. But this game playing — of which she’d previously been a teasing participant — suddenly annoyed her.

Not only that, she was hungry!

So she headed for the kitchen, knowing she’d be unable to keep the annoyance out of her voice, but maybe that was a good thing. The sooner Baz realised she was no gullible dim–wit the better. Still, at the entrance to the kitchen she paused and listened. There were noises in there, but it wasn’t talking.

Wynne’s hand came slowly up to her chest as her breathing slowed. God, they couldn’t be making love, could they? What if she’d completely read Venus wrong, and there
was
something going on here before she arrived? A wave of hot revulsion ran down her spine but a second later Wynne realised she wasn’t having it. Her happy future with Baz was so solid in her mind that no other option was possible, so she straightened her shoulders and pushed the swinging door open slowly, praying it wouldn’t creak.

It didn’t, but the small sounds stopped. The kitchen was brightly lit and Wynne kept her head still, staring at the window that looked out on the veranda, allowing her peripheral vision to detect any small movements. At last she saw it, the pantry door moving open a crack. She turned towards it in time to see it fall shut again.

No point mucking around. If she was being played for a fool, she needed to find out now. But though her mind was full of firm intentions, her knees wobbled as she forced her legs to take her to the pantry. She wasted no time in swinging the door wide open, already practicing
Oh my God!
silently in her mind.

But it wasn’t a tryst. As the automatic light clicked on she could see Venus alone, cowering against the shelves in the same spider–web bikini she’d had on that morning. Her eyes were huge and dark, her hair falling around her face in long golden clumps, her purple–stained hands twisting against each other in agitation. She looked impossibly younger than the eighteen Wynne suspected she was.

“Is he inside the house?” she whispered.

Wynne felt her stomach lurch. “Ted?” He’d been so rude to Venus at lunch, but Wynne had put that down to some form of generic meanness that had seen him insult Wynne after she’d left the room as well. Surely the old man hadn’t scared —

“The
policeman,
“ Venus hissed, reaching forward to snatch at Wynne’s arm and pull her into the pantry. The door swung closed behind her and the light abruptly extinguished.

It was close and warm, and over the doughy smell of flour and biscuits Wynne was abruptly aware of the scent of Venus’s damp hair. Of course, Wynne had smelt other girls’ hair lots of times when they’d been standing close, but for some reason this time her stomach gave a funny little lurch. Not in fright. “Are you in trouble with the police?” she asked softly.

“I think so.”

“What have you done?”

“A man died,” Venus answered, then she hiccupped a breath and Wynne heard loud swallowing. “A shark ate him, but before that he… I remember he grabbed me, in the water. I was in a weak physical condition. My legs were… not working properly,” she went on, her voice shaky, her breath grazing Wynne’s cheek. “I remember his hands on me. I was so frightened. I just wanted to get to the beach. I thought I was going to die.”

“What did he do to you?” Wynne found herself turning towards Venus and the girl’s breath brushed her lips.

“Baz told me the man was trying to rescue me but… I felt so sick when he touched me.”

No mistaking the fear in her voice. Wynne wished she’d been there. She would have shot the bastard herself. “But if a shark killed him, why do the police want you?”

“I don’t know. I’m just
scared.”

Wynne heard a soft intake of breath. A sob? She reached out in the darkness and fumbled to pull Venus’s head against her shoulder. “It’s all right, baby. You’re safe now,” Wynne said, her
all men are bastards
button firmly depressed. Venus was like one of Wynne’s senior girls, way too young to know how to handle a situation like that, and she wished she’d been there to protect her.

“But the police have come back.” Venus’s voice was starting to rise again. “They’ll take me away —”

“Shush, shush,” Wynne soothed, stroking Venus’s hair, pushing it away from her face. “I won’t let them find you.”

“Oh, Wynne.” Venus hugged her then, and though Wynne was in her highest heels, she still only came up to Venus’s chin. So consequently she found herself with her lips against the other girl’s throat.

“You’ll be fine,” she said, but it came out as a croak and her patting hands suddenly felt awkward on Venus’s all–but–naked back.

“You smell delicious, Wynne,” Venus whispered. “Like strawberries. I like strawberry jam.”

“It’s my lip gloss,” Wynne replied, realizing it would now be smeared against Venus’s throat. She pulled back a little.

“Can I taste it?” Venus said, and before Wynne could suck in a surprised breath, Venus had tilted her head up to —

“No!” Wynne gasped, and pushed out of Venus’s grasp to skitter back up against the door. “I’m not gay!”

“But don’t you want pleasure? I do,” Venus replied, and Wynne would swear the girl was smiling. Bloody darkness.

“I told you I’m not gay,” she hissed.

“You don’t know unless you try,” Venus said, as though Wynne was being unreasonable.

Wynne shook her head “I’m getting out of here,” she said, and scrabbled for the doorknob behind her.

“The policeman,” Venus hissed. “Someone needs to get rid of him.”

“Baz can handle it.”

“He’s not here,” Venus whined. “I heard him talking to his father at sunset, then they both went away. Baz was upset.”

“All right then, I’ll find him.”

“That will be too late.
Please,
Wynne.”

Wynne gritted her teeth in the dark, overcome by the insane urge to lead the policeman right back to the pantry, to get rid of Venus who was trouble with a Capital T.

“Please!”

“Oh all right I’ll do it,” Wynne snapped, knowing quite well she wasn’t going to turn the poor girl in just because she’d tried to kiss her. Venus needed adult guidance, not a jail sentence. She and Baz could work out how to do that when the policeman was gone.

“What will you tell him?” Venus whispered urgently.

Wynne dragged her mind back from thinking about she and Baz as
a team,
to the situation with the policeman. “What should I tell him?”

“That I’ve run away. Baz told them I ran away two nights ago.”

“Baz… lied to the police?”
The team
disintegrated in front of Wynne’s eyes as she grappled with why Baz would do that. The obvious reason would be that he was attracted to Venus, but even if he had been, she was clearly gay. And young. If Baz had been creepy like that, there would have been rumors at school. Besides, she felt like she knew him now. That just wasn’t Baz. So she decided to believe that he was incredibly brave, protecting a poor defenseless girl from a wrongful accusation. “Okay,” she told Venus. “That was before I arrived so I’ll pretend I’ve only heard about you and not met you.”