Something Fishy by Hilary MacLeod

intent.
    The shallow smile dissolved from Anton’s face. Quizzical eyes replaced it, and a furrow in his forehead.
    â€œYour fish?”
    â€œYes, I have begun plans for the construction of the largest aquarium in the world.” She fished a shabby tissue out of her sleeve, and blew her nose.
    â€œIt’s actually a number of aquaria in one massive building, devoted to a collection of all the fish on earth, from the 500-pound tuna to the tiny minnow. All the creatures of the rivers, lakes, and oceans. All God’s creatures. Now you’re so well set up, I expect I’ll leave everything to my fish.”
    â€œBut…but…” Anton felt his gut churning. He wanted to throw up. Felt a spike of panic.
    â€œNow show me to my room. I need a nap.”
    As Anton helped her up the steps to her room, he was burning with fury. Five hundred thousand. A measly five hundred thousand she’d given him. He’d thought it was a down payment on his future. Was that all it would be?
    â€œOuch, you’re hurting me.” In his anger, he’d gripped Viola so hard he’d bruised her arm.
    He gave a muffled apology, tempted to loosen his grip entirely, so she’d go tumbling down the stairs. Tumbling down the stairs before it was too late, before that will was changed. If it hadn’t been already. Was that possible?
    When Hy showed up later to see if she could include Anton’s Paradise on the tourism department’s website as one of “Four New North Shore Restaurants,” she found Anton in a dark mood.
    Glowering, she thought. He’s really glowering. She’d never seen a dark Heathcliff glower like this.
    He let her in without a word. The silence was so thick that Hy was reluctant to puncture it.
    But he did…with a sudden outburst, venom dripping from his voice.
    â€œBloody bitch. After all I’ve done for her. What have I got?”
    He looked up at the soaring ceiling, angled toward the shore. Then out at the shore, waves crashing onto it.
    The silence rose. Hy needed to fill it with something.
    â€œThis.”
    â€œThis?”
    â€œYou’ve got this.”
    â€œThere is so much more than this.” His eyes grazed the shoreline up to the trailer on the cape.
    â€œAnd that.” He thrust a finger at it. “I’ve got that.” He whipped around, his back to it, as if the movement could wipe it away.
    â€œBloody bitch. I’ll get her for this.”
    Hy left, wondering which bitch was he talking about?
    On her way out, she saw the bouquet of flowers standing on the table.
    Newton had become in the habit of strolling out at night and communing with the wind turbine. He didn’t know why he did it, but he found comfort in the cold steel – there was an odd familiarity in the skeletal structure. He had created it, and it nurtured him in some way he couldn’t explain. He had only to touch it and he felt energy flash through him, bring him to life, awaken him from the sluggish torpor in which he spent most of his days.
    Sometimes Fiona would be on the cape, too, hoping that he would take notice of her, come to her. Never in the way she hoped for. He didn’t declare his love for her. Nor she for him. But she was burning with it.
    Other nights, he was so swept up in his union with the turbine that he didn’t even see her. Some nights she was chased away by what she thought was malevolence on the wind, something coming from the turbine, aimed at her.
    Ian finally got a chance to chat with Newton, although he no longer harboured any idea of collegial chumminess. Now he was satisfying curiosity.
    He was walking down the Shore Lane, part of a new exercise routine, when he swore he saw Newton being intimate with the turbine tower, his skinny body wrapped around it.
    The vision drew Ian up onto the cape. Newton had disentangled himself from the machine, but he was stroking the metal, almost caressing it.
    There must be a