it’s no use – the most we can hope for is that one day he will put us in a tank together.”
There was a sliding of bolts and a flood of light from the front of the aquarium. “Hush, here come the visitors,” he warned. “But if you put on a good show, perhaps he won’t be angry with you later.” His tank filled with water and, with a flick of his flippers, he began to circle.
She watched as the crowd gathered, his tank was emptied again, and the sealman reappeared.
“How does he do that?” a girl asked.
“It’s just a hologram projected in there, it’s not real,” her boyfriend told her.
“He looks real,” she said doubtfully. “And what about her?”
He shrugged. “It’s a woman wearing a mermaid tail, that’s all. It’s not even well made – look, you can see the join.”
The mermaid bared her teeth at them in a sharp smile and they stepped back nervously. She took up the mirror and began to untangle her silvery hair, humming.
The unearthly hum grew louder … and louder … until it became a strangely beautiful song that held the visitors fixed, enthralled, to the spot.
Her voice rose higher: the glass walls of the aquarium began to tremble, the water rippled and the fish fled to their farther corners.
The sealman knew the power of that song.
“What’s that racket?” the Owner demanded. He clapped his hands to his head. “My eardrums! Stop it – stop singing now.”
But it was too late: everything rang and shimmered and swayed and trembled – and cracked. Great cascades of water poured out of every tank, swirling a flotsam of visitors, fish and the Owner towards the door.
The sealman, stepping gracefully over the shards, carried her out of the back door and towards the distant sea. The morning sun reflected off their nacreous skin and flashing scales. The crowds fell back, the beach-road traffic stopped, the donkeys ran away and the kites tangled.
From behind came a sudden shout of, “Stop them!”
This was beyond optimistic: for a seal, he ran fast. The waves were to his waist before anyone even reached the edge of the sea. Then there was a splash as they dove – cool, smooth bodies entwined, twisting and turning into the depths.
He gave her a passing, unwary fish, salt fresh.
“You are my prince,” she said and, as a mark of her favour, bit the offering in half and gave him the head, to seal their union.
Previously published by My Weekly
I found the new artisan chocolate maker’s little shop while taking a short cut back to the car after my second Fatbusters meeting. In fact, the leader’s parting rallying cry of ‘sumo to svelte quicker than you ever thought possible!’ was still ringing in my ears when I came face to face with my worst nightmare.
Yet to be truthful, it was more my fiancée David’s worst nightmare than mine, because I’d been quite happy with my curvy and generous size fourteen figure right up to the moment when he presented me with three month’s membership of Fatbusters as a Christmas present and suggested that as soon as I’d reached size eight we could set a date for our wedding.
Size eight? I wasn’t even sure my bones were size eight, let alone the rest of me! But since he seemed convinced that I’d told him I wanted to lose a few pounds in order to look truly gorgeous on my big day, I had to go along with it.
But the trouble was, that even the very idea of dieting made me feel twice as hungry as usual and all I could think of while being weighed today (I’d only lost a two measly pounds after practically starving myself for a week!) was that I deserved some chocolate.
Now, irresistibly drawn by the rich aroma wafting across the street, my nose was pressed against the bow window of Nick’s Chocolate Heaven, as I gazed longingly at the mouth-watering array laid out on old-fashioned cut-glass stands.
They looked beautiful – and hideously expensive. But that was good, because it meant that I couldn’t possibly have any … Unless, suggested a little devil in my mind, I just bought one single, delicious, self-indulgent treat for being so good all week. That couldn’t hurt, could it?
Before I knew it I was in the shop and scanning even more luscious temptations until I made my choice: a chocolate shaped like a rose and filled with coffee and cream truffle, all glossy, dark brown and tempting … rather like the proprietor’s eyes, I discovered, when I finally looked up.
“Just the one?” he asked, a hint of laughter in his voice.
“Yes, just the one,” I said firmly. Apart from those liquid and warm brown eyes his thin, bony face wasn’t really handsome and his black hair was ruffled and needed a good cut.
“Certainly,” he agreed, smiling in a way that beguilingly crinkled the corners of his eyes and I hastily revised the not-very-handsome first impression. That smile was a heart-breaker … and I just hoped the chocolate didn’t turn out to be a diet-breaker, too.
He put the rose-shaped truffle carefully in a little cellophane packet and closed it with a gold twist-tie. “I hope you enjoy it,” he said, with another amazing smile, “and do come again soon.”
“I’m sure I will,” I assured him, then hurried off holding up my little bag and feeling the way I did as a child when I won a goldfish at the fair, wondering if the poor little thing would even make it back to the car, let alone home. And of course I could bump into a fellow Fatbuster at any minute or, even worse, someone who knew my fiancé, David!
As I unlocked the car and got in I felt hugely guilty – but strangely, that didn’t stop me from immediately eating my delicious treat and then hiding the cellophane bag in the glove box. Guilty pleasures always seem to be the best, don’t they?
My spirits rose slightly and anyway, one small chocolate couldn’t hurt. (Okay, quite big chocolate, actually.) In fact, a little reward like that after every class could be just enough to keep me on course to my size eight wedding dress, even if that still seemed an unattainable dream – David’s dream.
*
By my fourth visit to Nick’s shop we were on friendly terms. I told him all about the catering business I’d set up with my best friend, Annie and he described how he’d got into chocolate making.
He didn’t question why I only bought one chocolate at a time, but he started keeping samples of new varieties for me to try … which it would have been rude to have refused, since he said he trusted my opinion.
“I think you have a natural palate for chocolate! You should come on my chocolate making course – I’m starting with a one day session next month, but then I might do
