Twenty-Six

The jazz crept into my ears, my feet, my blood and very bones. My body moved to the music as if of its own accord. I danced through air instead of water, but it felt just as effortless.

"I should have taken you dancing sooner, if I knew you were so good on your feet," Tony said. Admiration shone through his eyes, but he wasn't the only one. Other men stared, too, to the irritation of their dance partners.

The song ended and the singer announced, "Our next one is an old favourite for all of you who are missing someone, or you know you're going to, when you say good night." The band launched into the opening bars and he started singing. "Come on, sing along. I know you all know the words."

I stumbled at the first line of There is Somebody Waiting for Me. This was the song I'd accidentally started singing along to on the Trevessa, with disastrous results that still made my skin crawl.

No. Some stories do end well for mermaids and we're not stupid enough to dance on knives for men who don't value us.

I excused myself, telling Tony I needed some air, and slipped outside. The moment my shoes hit the sand, I kicked them off and scooped them up. Not dancing on knives, but near enough. The sand between my toes was soothing and the moonlight caressing the water called to me. I wanted to step right into the water, dress and all, but there were too many people about. I sighed and stepped onto the jetty boardwalk surrounding the swimming baths which held up the shark-proof netting. My bare feet padded softly on the boards, a soothing rhythm that made me want to sing even more. How could I stay silent with such music in my heart?

I reached the end of the boardwalk, where it turned abruptly to fence off the deep end of the baths. I held tight to a light post and breathed deeply. More than ever, I wanted to step off into the water.

Heavy footsteps sounded on the boards behind me and I turned, expecting to see Tony. No. This man was broader across the shoulders and taller. He hunched over, shadowing his hanging head as if he wanted to escape the music as much as I did.

"That bloody song," he muttered.

My heart flew. "William," I breathed.

He stopped, perhaps six feet from me, and leaned against another light post. He pulled something out of his pocket, unscrewed the top, then held the flask to his lips. Three sizeable gulps later, he returned the bottle to its hiding place in his jacket.

I debated what to say. Should I simply greet him and ask if he enjoyed the music, making small talk like humans do? Or should I confront him, asking him why he'd been so rude in the motorcycle shop today?

William stole my thunder and spoke first. "I should have dived in after you. Never mind the sharks or the storm. I should have fought the men who held me back and jumped out of that damn lifeboat to help you. Better than living as a coward." He spat in the ocean. "You might have accepted me then, but not the man I am now. My heart died that day and I wish I'd died with it."

Tears sprang to my eyes and I couldn't speak. The heartbreak in his tone hammered every word home – another nail through my chest, deep into my heart. I heard the boards shift under his shoes as he walked away. Blindly, I tried to follow him, but my foot met only air and I splashed into the water instead.

Swearing, I dropped like a stone as my layers of clothing drank the salty water. Undeterred, I waded along the seabed to the shallows.

"Oh my God, Maria! Are you all right?" Tony raced into the water to help me, as if he hadn't seen me dive into the fishing boat harbour on more than one occasion.

"I'm fine," I said, embarrassed by the number of people on the beach, staring. "I slipped, is all."

Tony draped his jacket around my shoulders and steered me through the gawkers. Somehow, he acquired a towel that he passed me to me. I patted my skirt with it, but it became soaked before I was anywhere near dry. I looked around for William, but he was nowhere to be found. In the time it had taken me to walk ashore, he'd disappeared.

Sighing heavily, I let Tony take me back to the tram and home. Maybe mermaids shouldn't dance.