Marriage & the Mermaid (Hapless Heroes) by Louise Cusack Read Free Book Online

dresser to retrieve her watch, being careful to restraighten the pineapple pattern doilies her Aunt had been so proud of. Betty knew she’d be in trouble if she wrecked anything.
    The toilet flushed and Betty scampered to beat her aunt out into the kitchen so the kettle would be on before the old bird got there. This might be a creaky lopsided house but it was free digs and free food. Betty wasn’t stupid enough to spoil that deal by being lazy.
    As she got the cups and saucers down she said, “Do you want me to set up the teapot?”
    “Thanks for offering, luv,” Glenda replied, shuffling in behind her in her matching chenille scuffs. “But you know I like to do it my way.”
    “No worries,” Betty replied. “I’ll put the biscuits out.” A chair scraped behind Betty and she knew that must be her Uncle Jim, coming for his afternoon tea. Betty was sure that one day — when she was much older — she might think it was a wonderful thing that old people still had sex, especially in the afternoon. But at seventeen, it was squeamish–making, especially when she hadn’t heard the tap in the bathroom running, which meant her uncle hadn’t bothered to wash his hands before he’d come to eat.
    “I hear there’s a pick–pocket doing the rounds,” Jim said, index finger digging through the hair coming out of his ears, searching for wax. His loud voice, as usually, got on Betty’s nerves. “You be careful out there job hunting, Elizabeth,” he told her. “Keep your wallet in the bottom of your handbag under your lipsticks and such. That’s what it says to do in the paper.”
    Betty put the tin of her aunt’s home made jam drops onto the table. “Goodness,” she said, conjuring a frown. “I thought country towns were safer than the big smoke.”
    Glenda, who stood at the sink rinsing the teapot, snorted, and Jim shook his head. “Not any more, luv,” he said. “The badduns are spreading, like a damned disease. Like those God damned cane toads!” he added, raising his voice even further.
    Betty flinched at the volume but Glenda didn’t react. Maybe they were both going deaf. “I’ll be careful,” she promised, and opened the tin, putting a selection of strawberry and apricot jam drops onto a plate. “Anzacs?” she asked, and at a nod from Jim she retrieved that tin and loaded the other side of the biscuit plate with the coconut–oat biscuits that reminded her of her grandmother.
    She loved that about Glenda and Jim’s. It was like stepping back in time, reliving happy moments of her past with her wider family. Unfortunately her near–kin had all been flakes but she’d survived that, and if nothing else, it had taught her to be a chameleon. To her Aunt and Uncle, she was Elizabeth, their favorite niece, kind, helpful, eager to please. To the man whose pocket she was going to lighten this evening, she would be … Rose — yes, that was a pretty name for a fantasy woman. She hadn’t been Rose before. That would be fun. A sweet demure Rose with batting eyelashes and a shy smile that promised a whole lot more than he was ever going to see.
    “Now remember I work on Friday,” Glenda told her, putting the teapot down on the table, then covering it with a knitted tea cosy. “I’m off to the Wilson’s to clean. Huge mansion they’ve got. Takes all day. So you’ll be making Jim’s lunch for him and cups of tea. You know he can’t boil water.” She shot her husband a sly glance. “Lucky he’s got other talents.” They laughed then and Betty put her biscuit down, appetite gone.
    “So the Wilson’s are rich?” she asked, to steer the conversation back onto a more profitable — not to mention more comfortable — subject.
    “Loaded,” Jim said. “The Wilson family opened up this area a hundred and fifty years ago, sugar cane, cotton and pineapples. Brought darkie laborers down from the islands and built Saltwood, a big sandstone mansion on a cliff–top out of town. The family’s lived