Aurora - Goddess of the Dawn Pt. 02

"What wonderful manners." Tanya said, taking her hand.

"Courtesy costs nothing." Beck replied helping her across. "Cup of tea?"

"Don't mind if I do." Tanya replied, following Beck towards the open hatch, surreptitiously admiring the view. Seen from behind, the slim blonde was a work of art, tanned and toned and perfectly proportioned. Her long, slender legs reminded Tanya irresistibly of the foals she saw frolicking in the yards at her husband's horse stud. She moved with an easy grace and the intensely physical lifestyle had burnt up most of her fat. Their elastic shot, her bikini bottoms exposed the cleft of her taut, tanned bottom. Her figure was the very embodiment of the Golden Ratio, that relationship of hip to waist that had plunged artists into fits of creative ecstasy since the dawn of time. The sort of figure that could start a war, Tanya thought. Or stop one if it wanted.

"Knock, knock."

Watson was busy washing breakfast dishes down in the galley. Looking up, he saw a curvaceous silhouette, framed in the hatchway. "Morning, neighbour."

"Hello, Damon. May I come down?"

"Please. Come on in. Mind the step."

Tanya picked her way carefully down, facing outwards. Watson held his eyes level, revelling in the sight of her small, neat feet with their thin, shapely ankles, followed by a pair of strong, curvaceous legs. His gaze lit briefly on her eye-pleasing thigh-gap and her plump, self-confident mound, that looked deeply, happily, and quite recently thoroughly fucked. Her splendid breasts descended into the frame, bouncing happily as she hopped off the last step onto the floor. If she was a trophy wife- and surely she was- it was only thanks to years of hard work and sustained dedication on her behalf. Smart, confident, effortlessly beautiful, she was the sort of woman who could be hobnobbing with the A-list in New York one night, on safari in Africa the very next day. She straightened, smiling a wide, dimpled smile, apparently comfortable with the old man's scrutiny.

And in any case, she was taking some measurements of her own. Bare-chested and clad in tatty old shorts, Watson had the tanned, lean physique of someone used to manhandling the forces of Nature, on a healthy diet with moderate indulgence. His short grey hair was thinning on top, just enough to look distinguished, evoking a sense of the seasoned adventurer, at home in remote and romantic wilderness. And that's not all he was at home in, she thought.

Killing the CD player, Watson turned back to the sink. "Beautiful day for it."

"Whatever 'it' may turn out to be."

Watson grunted with laughter as he busied himself with the housework. "Spoken like a true lawyer. How was your night?"

Tanya raked her fingers through her short dark hair, then leant on the galley bench and shot him a smile. "Not nearly as much fun as yours."

Watson blanched as a voice yelled, "Below!" and he grabbed Tanya's wrist, quietly thrilled to be touching her. Beck swung through the hatch, hanging off the overhead. When the landing zone was clear she simply let go, landing like a cat on the mat that had been spread on the floor for a landing pad.

"Why can't you just climb down like everyone else?" Watson carped, thrusting a beach towel into her arms.

"What's up? It's never bothered you before."

"We have a guest in case you hadn't noticed. We could at least pretend to be civilised."

"But that would be..." Beck squinted, "what's that thing where you're not what you say you are?"

"Misrepresentation?" Tanya suggested.

"That's it!" Beck snapped her fingers and stuck her face in the old man's, "That would be misrepresentation!"

"She's got you there." Tanya grinned.

"Mind if I have a shower?" Beck shivered.

"Another one?" Watson griped. "Alright, but make it quick. The ocean's not made-"

"-of bloody water. I know, I know."

The louvered bathroom door slammed shut and Tanya heard the water run. She turned on the spot, surprised, now she bothered to look, at how small everything was. "Hmm..." she said, searching for the right term. "this is all very... umm... cosy."

"Aurora?" Watson gave the mountain ash woodwork a loving pat. "She's beautiful. She's fast, she's stiff and very easy to handle. Totally viceless and utterly forgiving. I'd take her anywhere, and I absolutely know she'd always look after me."

"But everything's so small." Tanya pressed. "Where do you fit everything? You two must just about live on top of each other."

Watson peered at her, briefly rattled. How the hell did she know? "She's roomier than she looks." he said diffidently. "Anyway, we can't all afford nice big sixty-footers."

"I guess..." Tanya hedged, "I just can't imagine being out here in something so... vulnerable. With all the waves and storms and things. Does it ever get scary?"

"Of course it does," Watson shrugged, "that's half the fun."

"What about Becky?"

"What about her?"

"Must be a challenge for a such a young girl."

"Beck? She's tougher than she looks, don't you worry."

"Better man than me." Tanya sniffed. Looking around nervously, she drew a fortifying breath. "So." she said, "Becky. Is she your only daughter?"

Watson felt a stab of apprehension. "Umm... she's not my daughter, as a matter of fact."

"Oh." Tanya replied and Watson looked at her. There was something about her demeanour, something disquieting. A sort of... energy. She eyed him mischievously with a sly little smile. "Look, I hope you don't think I was snooping, but last night... I couldn't help noticing."

"Noticing what?"

"Well, you and Beck."

Watson gave his head a little shake. "Me and Beck what?"

"I mean around midnight. When I went to the loo..."

"What? What are you talking about?"

"Well, let's put it this way," Tanya winked. "You've still got it in you. Not to mention in your girl."

Watson dropped a mug clattering into the sink and the colour drained from his face. "I have no idea what you're talking about." he muttered, trying to pick up the mug with suddenly numb hands.

Fond of centre stage, even if she had to take it by storm, Tanya gave him a nudge. "Oh, stop being so modest. You know what they say? If the boat's a-rockin', don't come knockin'."

Watson nailed the smiling woman with a withering glare. "What the fuck are you implying?"

"Implying?" Tanya said, taken aback. She had actually meant it as a compliment. "I'm not implying anything. It's just, last night... I thought I saw..."

"Thought you saw what?"

"Umm... you and Beck."

"You were spying on us?"

"Spying?" Tanya cried, "Of course not. It's just that I went for a pee, outside. And then I sort of accidentally saw..."

Watson rounded on her. "How fucking dare you! Poking your nose into our private affairs."

"I wasn't poking my nose." Tanya glared. "Jesus Christ, just lighten up."

"Lighten up?"

"Why not?" Tanya retorted haughtily. "It's no big deal. I'm sorry if you have a problem with it."

"Look!" Watson snarled, standing over her, "One... what we do is none of your fucking business..."

Tanya took one look at him knew she'd blown it. "Hey, hey," she said, defensively "you've got the wrong end of the stick, Mister."

"...Two, Beck's a consenting adult, so she can do what she fuckingwell likes."

"Of course she can. I didn't mean-"

"And three, you didn't see anything anyway because there was nothing to fuckingwell see!"

"Please," Tanya put a hand on his arm, "I'm sorry, Damon, really. I was just teasing."

"Is that what you call it?" Watson snarled, pulling away. "Teasing?"

"It... I... Believe me, Damon. It's all fine by me."

"Well that's big of you."

"Seriously, Damon, it's all cool."

"Damn fucking right it's all cool." Watson fumed. "This is between me and Rebekah. And everyone else can just mind their own fucking business!"

"Of course it is, Damon, of course it is. What you two do is a matter for you, I completely agree. But you don't have to be so darned defensive."

"Well put yourself in my shoes. Have you noticed? I'm old enough to be her father."

"I know, I know." Tanya waved him down. "Look, Damon, I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to upset you, not after all you've done."

"Bit late for that wouldn't you say?" Watson sneered, then leant past the visitor and bellowed in the direction of the tiny bathroom. "Rebekah! That's long enough!"

Tanya took his elbow and spun him around. "For pity's sake, Damon, listen to me."

Watson clenched his jaw. "Is that your husband I hear calling? Maybe it's time you got back."

"Please, Damon. I don't want it to end like this."

"Maybe you should have thought of that earlier. Rebekah!"

A little voice replied, 'Comiiiing!' and Tanya grabbed his wrists. "Please, Damon. You have to believe me."

"Believe you what?"

"Listen... I've told hardly anybody this but... when I was Beck's age... I was pretty much into the same thing."

"What... 'same thing'?"

Tanya opened her mouth to reply as the slatted wooden door swung open and Beck stepped out, wrapped in a beach towel, a smaller white towel bundling her hair. Tanya stood aside to let the girl through. As she squeezed past, Beck said, 'Ping-yeoww!' and slapped Watson on the shoulder with her soggy bikini bottoms.

The old man turned on her. "What have I told you? Not in front of strangers!"

The girl looked fleetingly terrified then tried to brazen it out. "All right, all right." Hitching up her towel as she headed aft for her room, she almost inaudibly added, "Cranky-pants."

"What did you say?"

"Nothing!"

Tanya watched her go, feeling ever so slightly confused. The circles she moved in a prize like Beck would be cause for endless boasting, the bigger the scandal the better. She had merely meant to toy with Watson, to share in the fun, but now the easy energy that flowed between him and the girl had suddenly vanished. She squeezed his arm. "Please, Damon, don't be angry. Not at her."

Watson pulled away. "I'm not angry, Tanya. I'm fucking furious. That anyone should stick their nose into our fucking business."

And not just furious, but frightened to boot, because Beck was on the run and people were after her. Bad people. Violent people. Loose lips sink ships, all in a fickle sea.

Tanya swept her hair back. "Look mate, you've busted your nuts to help out a pair of clueless strangers. You're a good guy, Damon, an absolute gem. And Becky. I mean, what a sweetheart. You're good people, that's all that matters."

Beck re-emerged from her cabin at the stern of the boat. She was dressed in a singlet, a green one this time, and her faded pink and grey board shorts. She looked at them, Watson and Tanya, one at a time. "What are you talking about?"

"Nothing." Watson replied, turning back to the sink.

"Yes you were."

Watson turned on her and narrowed his eyes. "We were talking about fixing Tanya's boat, Miss Nosey-Parker. And as soon as it's done, we can all be on our separate ways."

Beck blinked her big blue eyes. "Well can I hang out with Tan while you're at it?"

Watson shot the woman a glare. "She's probably got better things to do."

"Of course we can hang out, Becky." Tanya smiled, ignoring the daggers. "Let's leave all that silly boat-stuff to the boys."

"You made your bed yet?" Watson snapped, and Beck shook her head. "Well get back there and do it. Now."

"Hmph," Beck sniffed, "someone got out of the wrong side of bed."

Watson opened his mouth to respond as Tanya pushed off the bench. "Let me help." she said brightly, deftly sidestepping Watson's attempt to keep them apart, "Then we can get it done in half the time."

"Sure." Beck shrugged, as Tanya turned and gave the old man a wink.

It was a girl's room and no mistake, pared down to fit the dimensions of a forty five-foot sailboat. Light and bright, thanks to a generous array of portholes, its walls were festooned with pinups of dolphins and turtles, a baby whale and a starfish. In pride of place hung a Great White shark, black eye staring, great maw bristling with huge, triangular teeth. Stuffed animals peered at the visitor from the ramparts of a narrow bookshelf, and an assortment of clothes lay strewn on the floor.

Beck flung a lightweight coverlet over her bed to hide the dried semen-stains, as Tanya took a big, deep sniff. The room smelt of seawater, with a hint of diesel and shampoo, and the subtle yet unmistakable aroma of sex. "Watch your head." Beck cautioned and patted the mattress. "Here. Want to see my project?"

"Project?" Tanya frowned, sitting beside Beck as she reefed a hefty journal from a drawer in her tiny writing desk.

"This is my quest," the blonde explained, "to save the sea. This is a log of all the plastic I see. Once it's full, I'm dropping it on the U.N."

"U.N.? As in the United Nations?"

Beck nodded, leafing through the pages. "Uh huh."

"You think they'll be interested?"

"They jollywell better be. Plastic's killing the oceans all over the world. You know, there's a garbage vortex in the northern pacific that's as bigger than most countries? The North Pacific gyre. Look it up."

"What's this?" Tanya asked, tapping the drawing of a shark, her breast resting warmly against Beck's arm.

"Oh, sometimes and draw the animals I see."

"You drew this?"

"Just for fun."

"What's this mean?" Tanya asked, underlining some spidery cursive with a fingertip.

"That's its name. Carcharhinus melanopterus. It's binomial nomenclature."

"Where on Earth did you learn that?"

"Dom... Damon taught me. He reckons the scientific names of plants and animals is a form of poetry. They all mean something. Melanopterus mean's 'black wing'. See how its pectorals have little black tips?"

Tanya surreptitiously inhaled the scent of Beck's wet hair. "That's so beautiful!" she breathed. "Have you done any more?"

Beck riffled the pages until she came across a green turtle. She could feel Tanya's warmth and smell her breath. It was pleasant, sweet. "Here's a green turtle."

"Can you say the name?"

Beck ran her finger across the text as she sounded it out. "Che-lo-ni-a mydas. Oh, you should see them, Tanya. They're sooo cute!"

The drawing was delicate and oddly sensitive, depicting the creature from above and slightly behind while it looked back over its shell as if mildly wary. It was beautifully rendered in coloured pencil, the sun on its back rippled with wave shadows. "You could sell those, Beck." Tanya said, "You'd make a fortune."

"Nahh..." Beck shook her head, "it's just a bit of fun." A turn of the page revealed a crayfish, a little less skilfully wrought with phantom limbs of multiple erasures . "Know what this is?" she asked.

"Hmm..." Tanya said, "it's either a mornay or a thermidor."

Beck's cheeks bunched in a smile. "It's a Panulirus versicolor. A painted cray. I've seen heaps of them."

"Do you know the scientific names of all the animals?"

"Most of them." Beck shrugged. "The ones I don't I just look up."

"Did you copy these drawings from a book?"

Beck shook her head. "Nuh. After a swim I just draw what I saw. Sometimes I have to ask Damon for help, in case I've missed any details. Here." she turned over the page. "Laticauda colubrina. Yellow lipped sea krait, one of my faves."

"A bloody sea snake? Are you serious?"

"They're really, really friendly." Beck said excitedly. "Sometimes they come right up to your mask and you can see their little forked tongues flick in and out. They're sooo cute! Dom... Damon says they do it just 'cos they can see their own reflections, but I reckon they're just being friendly."

"Have you finished boring this poor woman to death yet?" Watson asked from the doorway. "Here, Becky. I've got an errand. Duck over to the shops and pick up some coco-doodles."

Beck slammed the sketchbook shut. "Right now? I was just showing Tanya my log."

"Must be riveting, I'm sure."

Tanya frowned. "To the shops? For what?"

They looked at her. "He means the island." Beck explained, "For coconuts."

"You'd better make a move," Watson jerked his head, "or you'll miss high water."

"That's ages away."

"Move!"

"How are you getting there?" Tanya asked.

"The tender." Beck replied, as if it should have been obvious.

"Can I come?" Tanya asked eagerly, foiling a second attempt at splitting them up. In spite of her charm and sensational good looks, the woman was trouble.

"Great idea!" Beck said brightly, "We can go beachcombing."

"Oh leave the poor woman alone." Watson sighed. "She's probably got better things to do."

"What?" Tanya demanded, "Like listening to my husband carry on about his broken-down boat? I'd much rather go shopping with young Miss Attenborough here." She glanced at Watson. "If that's okay?"

Watson shrugged, stymied. To make an issue of it now would merely invite interrogation at the hands of his insatiably curious young partner. He could hear it now... why not... she and Tanya were both chicks, right, so why couldn't she go with to the island?

Pushing past Watson, Beck whipped a sunbleached baseball cap off a hook on the door as she headed for the companionway. "Come on, Tanny." she said, "Let's go exploring."

"And no climbing for them, either." Watson hollered after her. "You'll be no use to anyone with a broken neck."

A distant voice replied, 'I won't.' as Beck's footsteps thumped across the overhead. Rolling off the bed, Tanya stood, all in her yellow bikini, while Watson remained blocking the door. "That young woman," she announced, "is simply a-mazing! Are all those drawings really hers?"

Watson nodded, still feeling uneasy.

"And the way she remembers those names."

"Look, Tanya," Watson said, "this life of ours. Compared to yours I know it's not much, but it's the only one we've got. I beg you. Don't say anything. Least of all to her."

Tanya touched his arm. "Oh, stop fretting, Damon. Your secret's safe with me, I promise."

Brow furrowed in worry, Watson stepped aside to allow Tanya through. "I don't have to tell you what others would make of it."

Tanya tilted her head and looked at him. "Make of what?"

"You know what." Watson glared, "I'm old enough to be Beck's dad."

Tanya looked around restively, as if torn by conflicting impulses. "Look. Can I tell you something?"

"What?"

A voice called 'Tanyaaa!', and she raised her eyes to the ceiling. "Coming, Sweetheart."

"What do you want to tell me?" Watson asked.

Tanya's shoulders slumped. "This whole age-difference thing. It's just rubbish."

"Really? You haven't seen the way some people look at us."

"Let me guess. Bitter old men and spiteful old women?"

"Mostly," Watson nodded, "but not always."

"Listen, Damon," Tanya said, "jealousy's a curse. Seems to me you're onto a beautiful thing. Both of you. And like you said, it's nobody's business."

"That's the problem." Watson replied dourly. "Somebody might try to make it their business."

"Damon," Tanya sighed, "I'll just stay here if you'd prefer. Just say the word."

"Right. And then I'd never hear the end of it."

"Then relax. I'll look after her."

Watson looked her up and down with mild disdain. "What on Earth makes you think she needs looking after?"