what?” he demanded.
“My wedding ring: it must have slipped off while I was transplanting the primroses, so I took my metal detector out and found it.”
He suddenly started laughing, too. “You know, I thought you’d been treasure hunting, even though I was sure Uncle Ray wouldn’t have buried anything near Charlie.”
“No, of course he wouldn’t have – and even if he had, I would have told you.”
“Yes, I really should have known you better by now, Annie,” he agreed, then glanced at her left hand. “But you’re not wearing your ring?”
She shook her head. “No – losing it seemed like a sign that perhaps it was time to stop wearing it … to move on with my life.”
“Oh? Then perhaps you’d like to come down to the pub with me? I suppose I can’t keep you to myself forever.”
“Are you … asking me out?” she said uncertainly. She knew his wife had left him for another man a couple of years before.
“Yes, though I’m a bit out of practise with the dating game.”
“Me too – but you definitely owe me a drink for suspecting I’d been stealing your property!”
*
Being gold, Annie’s wedding ring had come out of the earth as freshly gleaming as it went in, which was more than could be said for the rusty old tobacco tin she’d found just underneath it.
Inside, sealed in a plastic bag, had been a small, worn dog collar and a note which she could remember by heart:
If you’re reading this, James, then you’ve disturbed old Charlie and you’re not the man I thought you! I did my best for him, spending a fortune on the vet and his headstone, but blood is thicker than water, so I hope you found the sovereigns up the chimney in the parlour.
Your Great Uncle Ray.
She’d debated whether to show it to James, then decided it would be better if he never knew about it, so sealed it back up again and reburied it under the primroses.
And after all, their evening out had gone very well. Perhaps James had lost one treasure but he might – just might – have found himself another!
Previously published in the RNA anthology
She came up in the fishing nets, her cold, clammy skin like translucent pearl, naked apart from long, silvery hair that clung like wet seaweed right down to the iridescent scales of her tail.
The crew conferred as she sat on the deck, watching them with aquamarine eyes while crunching the best of their hard-won catch between sharp, pointed white teeth. One of them, faster than the others and scenting a profit, caught her as she was about to slither back over the side.
She bit him, too, for his trouble. But she seemed happy enough in the hold; the men wary as they packed the fish with ice and sailed for port, fast.
A tall young man awaited them on the jetty, black curly hair blowing in the wind, eyes the turquoise of a Caribbean Sea. When they brought her up on deck, swathed in a mackintosh, he smiled, dazzlingly.
She remembered her grandmother’s stories. “Are you my prince?” she asked, the first words she’d spoken. “My destiny?”
“That’s right, darling,” he agreed, handing the skipper a bundle of coloured paper.
He drove her through the early morning light to the fairground by the beach and pulled up outside some wooden doors.
“You’ll be safe here,” he said, carrying her into a large room that smelt of stale seawater, algae and despair. When he switched on the light, great glass tanks cast watery shadows onto the walls and strange shapes moved within each one – except the last.
“There’s something fishy going on,” she said, puzzled.
“Not on, in,” he replied, heaving her over the side with a splash.
“Don’t leave me here,” she mouthed, bubbling, but his smile now reminded her of a barracuda.
“Sink or swim – my aquarium needs you. You put on a good performance for the punters and you’ll get all the fish you can eat. Watch this.”
He drained one side of the tank opposite until a large grey seal sat in little more than a puddle … then with a sudden shimmer it changed shape to a slender young man with dark, sad eyes.
“I’ll leave you to get to know each other – at a distance,” he said, laughing cruelly, and left them in the aqueous half-light.
*
They sat on their fibreglass rocks, their eyes meeting through thick glass. “He’s the Owner,” explained the sealman. “He does that every hour when the aquarium is open and humans pay money to come and watch.”
“How did he catch you?”
“Greed – I took the bait.”
“I thought he was my prince until he put me in stale water,” she said bitterly. “I’m fed up to the gills.”
“He feeds us dead fish, too, and never cleans out the tanks. But you have to do what he says, or he will hurt you.” The sealman shuddered, his eyes going dark with remembered pain.
There was a hammering. “What’s he doing?” she asked.
“Changing the signs outside, at a guess. You’ll be the star attraction now.”
*
“I want a mirror and a comb,” she said sulkily when the Owner came back in.
“You’ve got them – they’re in that plastic clam shell over there. Now, you keep sitting on that rock and swish your tail occasionally …”
She slapped the water with it, drenching him from head to foot.
“You do that again, and there’ll be no fish for you today,” he said, giving her an evil look. “And after the aquarium’s shut, I’ll teach you some manners!”
When he’d gone to change she looked around her and sighed. “How far from the sea are we?”
“Not far – when the front door is open you can smell the tang on the breeze. If there wasn’t mesh over my tank I’d have been out of here in a flash and running down the beach – I’m sickening for the fresh, salty sea.”
“I couldn’t run,” she said sadly. “If I got out, how
