Aurora - Blood Moon Epilogue

Kicking his shoes off, Watson made his way upstairs, on tiptoes, as if he were an accidental trespasser. To the master bedroom, likewise with a stunning sea view, and its own ensuite bathroom, and a walk-in wardrobe the size of Aurora's saloon. Next door, a guest room with its own private amenities, and next door to that a second study. Standing at the door, surveying the scene, the old man heaved a sigh. That same sense of foreboding settled over him again. The beds were big, kingsize-plus, but hardly sufficient for a party of 10. 11 if Roger stepped up and came to his aid. Beck, Ally and Vicky. Tanya, Cassandra and Suong, Yan and Aisha- the place was about to host an entire multinational football team

Two beds? They had to be kidding.

An inconvenient truth settled over him. He'd been betrayed, just as he'd suspected. The whole bloody charade seemed aimed at stranding him with Penny, of all bloody people, Miss Misery Guts. Not that he didn't find her attractive- she was a young female after all. A head shorter than he, she was slim, wiry and quite well-proportioned, an unflattering choice of wardrobe notwithstanding. With sweet little breasts by all indications. A pretty girl in spite of the scar that ran from the bridge of her nose across the ridge of her left cheekbone, before disappearing into the hairline at her temple. Unavoidable at first, the old man now had to make a conscious effort to even notice. Brown hair and shell-like ears, a small nose with a bump. Blue eyes turned down ever so slightly at the corners, upswept brows.

But she was broken. Badly. Beyond repair. Least of all by him. He wasn't a psych and he wasn't a counsellor. Much less the psychiatrist she so badly needed. If those witches had sent him here to perform some miracle of redemption they must have had rocks in their heads. She needed a professional, a big-city shrink at several hundred quid an hour- not some amateur sage and hobby philosopher. Heaving a sigh, Watson ran his fingers through his thinning white hair. Time to break it to her.

Crunching across the gravel to the car, he opened the driver's door to find Penny, eyes closed, seat fully reclined, her bare feet up on the dashboard. "Light the fire?" she asked.

"I've got good news and bad news."

"There's no such thing as good news. But don't let that stop you."

Watson fished his phone out of the centre console. "The good news is I don't have to light the fire."

"Uh huh. So what's the other bad news?"

"The only bad news is there's not enough room for all of us. They should have checked."

"Who?"

"Tanya, and whoever else imagined this place was some sort of palace. Roger's brother must have been telling porkies."

Penny raised her head. "Telling what?"

"Porkies. Pork pies. Lies. Come on, Pen. You Pommies invented rhyming slang."

"We what?" Penny squinted.

"You Pom.... Never mind. Look. Hate to tell you this since you're having such a cracking good time, but we probably have to go back."

"To London?"

"'Fraid so. I'll have to message Tan and say don't bother coming. There's not enough room."

"All the way back?" Penny squinted. "Now?"

It was only a few hundred kays. There were longer driveways back in Australia. "Unless you've got a better idea."

Penny settled back, closing her eyes. "Do what you like. I didn't want to come to this stupid farm in the first place."

Changing tack, Watson dug his heels in. Thinking, if the girl had her heart set on making a such meal of her misery, the least he could do was whet her appetite. "Come on then, let's at least go in and mess up the kitchen. Fancy a cuppa?"

Penny opened her mouth to tell him to just go and jam his fucking cup of tea. On second thoughts she said, "Might as well. I'm busting for the loo."

"I'm not surprised." Watson chuckled. "Come on. There's a bathroom on the ground floor. You do your thing and I'll get the kettle on."

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The farmhouse had been fully stocked for their visit. Veuve in one fridge, luxury foodstuffs in another, cheeses and caviar, pate, smoked salmon and a whole roast chicken. As well as full-cream milk, fresh from the cow, and commercial milk for the choosey. Farm butter, eggs and bacon, a box of Lindt chocolates for afters. Plastic containers marked, 'country chicken soup', 'spag bol' and 'kjotsupa'. In the cupboard, freshly-baked sourdough and various spreads, including Vegemite, purchased in London and delivered cross-country by taxi. Gin in the freezer, mixers in the fridge. And a silver cigarette case on the counter, loaded with half a dozen joints, expertly rolled by the farm's resident stoner.

"Fucking Tan." Watson said under his breath, rolling a slim cigarette between finger and thumb. If there was one thing guaranteed to make him stay.

Penny took her time, but eventually emerged, face freshly washed, looking a little less put-upon. Taking her mug of freshly poured tea, she jerked her head at the overnight bag, sitting next to Watson's dive bag in the entrance. "What's that doing here?"

Watson checked over his shoulder. "That's funny. It must have followed me."

"Mmm... yeah... don't give up your day job. I thought you said we were leaving."

Watson sucked air through his teeth. "Mmm... yeah... naah... maybe. It's gonna be dark soon. I don't wanna go hitting a roo."

"Hitting a what?" Penny frowned.

"Roo. Kangaroo. They come out at dusk."

"A kangaroo? Are you fuckin' mental?"

"You're getting warmer." Watson said, sipping his tea.

"I'm a killer you know." Penny announced. "I mean a cold-blooded murderer. You know that don't you?"

Watson shrugged. Of course he knew, they all did. Ally couldn't wait to tell them. "Oh well. We all make mistakes."

"Not lethal ones." Penny said, as if she were bragging. "Not like me. I mean, have you ever killed anyone?"

"Not that I know of."

"Well there you go then." Penny said, "Because I have. And I don't mean the ones I killed in the accident. I mean that Russian whore back in the slammer. The one I strangled to death. With my own bare hands. Aren't you worried?"

"Worried? At my age? Look, Pen. I'm so old I could pop off any minute. Just think, you would have a cast iron alibi."

Penny's face lit up with a big, beaming grin. "I'm serious." she laughed, hiding her smile.

"So am I."

Penny took a swig of her tea. "Cracking cuppa, Damon. Cheers."

"Years of practice."

Penny wandered off. Letting herself out through the glass sliding doors, she sat down on the wooden deck outside, on the stairs, knees up, elbows in, deeply engrossed in her own gloomy reveries. Downing his tea, Watson grabbed the pot to pour himself another, then thought better of it. If the farmhouse elves had gone to so much trouble, joints on the counter, booze in the fridge, the least he could do was live it up a little. Opening the door, he plucked a bottle of French Champagne from the shelf and peeled away the foil, twisted the wire six half-turns anti-clockwise, aimed at the ceiling and let the cork fly.

By the time he joined her, Penny was sitting with her head in her arms, empty mug beside her. Settling at her side, not quite touching, Watson nudged her arm,

Penny looked up to find a glass of Champagne hovering front of her. "What's this?"

"Lemonade."

She took the glass. "I don't know what you're up to, Mister Watson, but whatever it is, forget it."

"Mister Watson?" he said, clutching his heart. "Ouch!"

Penny looked at him, deadpan. "Then what do you want me to call you?"

"Anything except Doddering Old Fart. That's Beck's term."

Laughing in spite of herself, Penny levelled a finger at him. "Now stop that."

"What?"

"Trying to be funny. It's not working."

"Then why are you laughing?"

"At you, fella. Not with you."

Watson took the heartless barb without so much as batting an eyelid.

"Mmm..." Penny said, savouring her first mouthful, "nice lemonade."

"It's French lemonade. They use a special process."

Penny thought back to the several hours' drive during which they'd exchanged barely a word. But she'd watched him on and off when she thought he wasn't looking, to find him relaxed yet attentive, his every move calculated and deliberate. "You're not a bad driver by the way." she said. "For an old bloke."

"Old maybe but too young to die." Watson replied, ignoring the dig. "It was just self-preservation."

Penny's first mouthful had hit the spot. "Can I ask you something?" she said, eying off the elephant on the porch swing.

Watson hefted a shoulder. "Why not?"

"Something personal?"

"Well... I can't guarantee I'll answer, but give it a shot."

"Rebekah. Is she like... is she your daughter or something?"

Watson blanched. According to her birth certificate, that's exactly who she was. "What would give you that idea?"

"Well you've got the same name."

Watson gave a wave of dismissal. "A bureaucratic expedience."

"I see. So, what is she then? Is she like your...?"

"Carer? That's right."

"Beck?"

"Beck."

Penny made air commas. "She's your 'carer'?"

"Best in the business."

"So she takes care of you?"

"What part of 'carer' are you grappling with, Pen? It's pretty simple. I'm old. And doddering. Rebekah takes care of me."

Penny's eyes wandered hither and yon as she struggled with the idea. "You're sharing a room?"

"INTENSIVE care, Penny. Platinum package."

Penny took a mouthful and sat shaking her head. "Things must have changed while I was inside."

"Welcome to the future, Pen."

"So where did you find her?"

"Beck? She left a flyer in my letterbox."

Penny pulled back. "She did?"

Watson bounced up and down laughing. "No."

"So you're taking the piss?"

Watson raised his hand, thumb and finger almost touching.

"Then where did you find her?"

"'Hot Little Blondes R Us? Really, Pen, you don't wanna know."

"But I do wanna know."

"I mean it, Penny. It's a long and complicated story."

"In other words mind my own fucking business."

"In other words you won't even believe me."

"Is that so?" Penny intoned. "And what about those other girls? Cassie and Suong?"

"A VERY long and complicated story."

"And Tanya? I've seen the way you kiss. Does her old man know what you two are up to?"

Watson looked her up and down, frowning. "Are you from the police or are you writing a book?"

"I'm trying to figure out just who I'm dealing with."

"Me? There's nothing to figure."

"Oh come on. Some old dude swanning round in Ab Aldafra, asshole of the planet. Surrounded by all this young totty. It's not normal."

"Normal's for losers." Watson scoffed.

"I'm serious. It's like something out of the movies. 'The Spy Who Shagged Me'."

"You're safe, Penny, if that's what you mean. They wouldn't have sent you here otherwise."

"So they DID send me here. On purpose. Is that what you're saying?"

"You'll have to ask them."

They drank in silence for a while, then Penny spoke up. "What is she? About half your age?"

"Beck?"

Penny nodded.

"Gee, Penny, flattery will get you everywhere. She's actually about a third."

Penny whistled. "Jesus Christ! What's your secret?"

"My secret? A 45-foot cutter rigged sloop. Named Aurora."

"A 45-foot what?"

"Yacht."

"Right," Penny snorted, "if that's not a euphemism I don't know what is."

"I'm serious. She's a 44-foot Jeanneau, extended to 45. We sailed around the tropics for a couple of years. Till Beck took up flying."

"You and Beck?"

Watson nodded over a mouthful.

"So she's NOT your carer?"

"Who says?"

"But it was just the two of you?"

"Most of the time. We did have a guest from time to time."

"Otherwise you were all alone?"

"Uh huh."

Penny slapped her forehead. "I mean, that's just fucking amazing. To think. That gorgeous young girl. And a crazy old man. She must be mental."

The old man shuddered. A chill settled in as the sun was calling it a day and he was still in his T-shirt and shorts. Either that or someone had just strolled over his grave. "I dare you to say that to Beck."

"Oh I will. Believe me."

"Then I wanna watch." Watson raised his empty glass. "Care for a refill?"

"Here!" Penny said, looking pointedly at her empty flute. "You're not trying to get me drunk, are you?"

"Me?" Watson frowned. "Whatever for?"

"Whatever for?" she scoffed. "Are you kidding? You seedy old white guys are all the bleeding same. Well let me warn you... it might have worked on those other girls... but you try any funny business." Penny drew a thumb across her throat. "Ssssskrrrt!"

Watson shook his head in disgust. "Bottle's in the fridge," he said, leaning forward onto his feet. "Feel free to help yourself."

And after such a promising start. Penny was curious about his carnal activities- a very good sign- and the less he said the more she was interested. But her careless jibe had killed the vibe and the shutters came down. Chastised, and rightly so, but not about to admit it, she slunk away to lock herself in the guest room where she made up her bed on the floor.

Disappointed and depressed, Watson lit the fire in the vain hope the others might turn up. Which they wouldn't. He'd been abandoned, he could tell, to deal with the problem child all on his own. Kicking back by the hearth, feet up on the priceless silk sofa, half-sozzled with a bottle of Veuve beside him, he tapped out a one-finger message.

'On your way yet?'

A moment later his phone went, 'Ting!'

'Slight delay.' Tanya replied. 'Beck's nails are still drying.'

'Thought so. You know I knew all along this was a plot.'

Ting! 'What plot? Whats the matter? Dont you trust me?'

'HAAHHHHAAAAAHAAAAHAAAA... Oh Tan. You must think Im an idiot. Admit it. This whole thing is a setup'

'Honest to god its not. Well be there as soon as we can, l promise '

'Dont bother. Theres not enough room and were coming home anyway. Miss misery guts hates it here. Hates everything including me. Were leaving tomrow'

'Theres plenty of room in the outbuildings Pet. Rogers bro has parties with 20 or 30 guests. Just FTTB enjoy yourself. Take in the sea air. Chill baby.'

'Chill is right, that girl is the ice maiden.'

'She's just a little shy, lover. Cut her some slack.'

'You sure you guys didn't try to set me up? Smells like it'

'Damon!!! How could you say such a thing?'

'How long have I known you?'

'Oh stop being so paranoid.'

'Alright Tanya Bragg, but I'm warning ya.'

'Relax, Baby. Have a nice joint.'

'Just for that I will.'

'Sweet dreams Handsome, seeyou soon XXXXX'

Watson looked over his shoulder at the silver cigarette case. The master bedroom came complete with its own huge flatscreen. He'd packed his computer and all the connections, and had a thumb drive of the McHale sisters' finest home movies. With the sound turned down after a nice little racehorse, and zero risk of being disturbed... the evening had just taken on a distinctly rosy hue.

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The old man woke in the grips of a Champagne and cannabis hangover. It was mid morning, according to the shadows. Showering, he climbed into a baggy pair of cargo shorts and pulled on a fleece-lined pullover. Padding bare foot out of his room, he chanced a peek in the room next door, to find Penny's bedroom empty and bedding strewn all over the floor. And her bag, on the bed, already packed for the journey back home.

She was outside on the deck when he found her. "Sleep alright?" he asked, setting a mug of sweet, milky tea down beside her.

Penny shot him a glare. "Not really, no. Not after some twat stank up the joint with weed."

"I thought it was incense." Watson said, sitting beside her. "Hoped it might give a lift to the ambience."

Penny sipped her tea. "At least you know how to make a half-decent cuppa. When are we leaving?"

The old man yawned, rubbing his face. "I might have some brekky first, then go for a bit of a wander."

"What for?"

"To off-gas the alcohol. Unless you wanna drive?"

"No!" Penny snapped, raising her hand. "No... I said I don't drive."

"Suit yourself. Ever been to the cliffs on the coast? Apparently they're quite spectacular."

"Any good for jumping off?"

"I guess," Watson shrugged, "not that I'm an expert. One cliff's as good as the other I suppose."

"Is that so?" Penny curled her lip. "Well, why don't you give it a go and get back to me."

Watson briefly considered reclaiming the tea and pouring it over her head. Only Tanya's plea, to cut her some slack, and the prospect of a complimentary throat slitting changed his mind. Draining his mug in a few gulping mouthfuls he got to his feet. "Bacon and eggs?"

Penny hefted a shoulder. She could have starved to death for all she cared, the sooner the better, but her mouth began to water in spite of herself. "Sure. Go ahead. Makes no difference to me."

"Penny..." Watson sighed, dying to say he didn't care either way, "Breakfast? Yes or no?"

"Yes..." Penny replied, and after a few heartbeats added, "thanks."

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By the time breakfast was done and the old man had washed up the dishes, the sun was nudging the zenith. Handicap or not, the old man was keen to at least lay eyes on the fabled coastline, subject of so much local lore. Just for the diary entry, and maybe fodder for some future book. Heading upstairs, he fished a day pack out of the dive bag and stuffed it with a waterproof shell, then a long-sleeved running top and a handful of energy bars. Pulling on a light green T-shirt, he followed up with a borrowed cap. Ankle socks and trail shoes and he was ready to go.

Still sitting on the step, where she'd apparently taken root, Penny gave the old man a quick once over. "Well," Watson said, "I'm off for a stroll. You don't go to the restaurant just to look at the menu."

"Whatever." Penny said with a wave of dismissal, getting to her feet and sloping away. Head down, Watson consulted a topo-map he'd found in the living room, amidst a collection of guide-books and bird bibles. Two kilometres by his estimation, plus some time to take in the view, a two or three hour excursion. Followed by a cuppa and maybe some lunch. Tanya wasn't coming, not in a million years. Half an hour to pack and stack and he was on his way back to London.

Watson had barely gone 50 metres when a voice called out from behind. Teetering to a stop, he looked over his shoulder to see an angry young female stomping down the path. Penny drew level then carried on without him, arms crossed, eyes downcast under the shade of a sun hat. "You could have waited." she muttered when he caught up with her.

"Sorry, Sweets. My ESP must be on the blink. I didn't know you wanted to come with."

"All you had to do was ask."

"Hey, Pen, I'm going for a walk. You wanna join me?"

"Not really."

"Then why bother?"

"Well, someone has to keep an eye on you. I mean, what would the others say? If you dropped dead bumbling around out here? 'There she goes again. The frikken' Lizzy Borden of Ab Aldafra'."

"Lizzy who?"

"Borden." Penny said, then commenced singing in a low, tuneless voice. "Lizzy Borden took an axe, gave the Russian forty whacks, when she saw what she had done, gave the old man forty-one."

Watson gave a grunt of laughter. The girl was really putting on a show, pulling out all the stops even for an audience of one. He looked her over. "Don't look now but you forgot your axe."

"I'm getting it sharpened."

"A nice clean cut." he said, checking the map. "Very decent of you. Here. Looks like there's a style up ahead. Then fifty meters past that we take a left. Why don't you go first? So you can't sneak up on me."