The book slipped from George’s hand, waking him with a start. He’d fallen asleep in his beach chair. George rubbed his eyes and looked around him. How could he fall asleep on a crowded beach with all these noisy kids around him?
“Damn retirement,” he mumbled to himself. “It erodes your interest in life.”
George rose from the beach chair, stretched then looked at his watch. For a moment he felt a strange uneasiness as he tried to determine how long he had slept. Thirty minutes maybe, but he wasn’t sure.
Shielding his eyes from the sun, George looked in the direction where Jean had gone. “I’m just going for a walk to the other end of the beach,” she had told him.
For a while he had watched her, as she strolled along the water’s edge, stopping to examine an interesting shell or other marine objects exposed by the receding tide. As Jean continued on her walk he had returned to his book.
He checked his watch again and scratched his thinning hair. I must have fallen asleep almost immediately, he thought. He scanned the beach again in both directions, around the pool area and the kiosk, but Jean was nowhere in sight. He shrugged. Probably gone off to the toilets, he decided.
As George settled back into the beach chair, the feeling of uneasiness remained.
While he waited for Jean to return, his thoughts turned to his unhappy lifestyle. George was forced into retirement after an employee embezzled almost half a million dollars from his successful importing business. Alex was a qualified accountant who handled his company’s financial affairs. He’d always trusted Alex; and why shouldn’t he? The man was his brother-in-law.
Facing bankruptcy, they sold their house in order to clear their debts, but in the end George and Jean had lost most of their life’s savings. There were no jobs for a failed, 62-year-old businessman, so retirement to a low cost residential resort was their only financial option. His marriage too, had suffered. Jean blamed herself for her brother’s fraudulent actions and their relationship, after 40 years of happy marriage, had become strained and difficult.
George looked at his watch again. Jean had set out for her walk more than an hour ago, and she was nowhere to be seen. This was totally out of character for her and he was becoming concerned.
He wandered down to the water’s edge between the flags, and looked out amongst the swimmers enjoying themselves in the surf. Jean was not a strong swimmer and George knew she would never venture out too far.
“Anything wrong, pop?” a voice behind him asked.
George turned to see a young lifeguard watching him intently.
“I’m looking for my wife,” George replied cautiously. “She went for a walk along the beach over an hour ago and hasn’t returned.”
The lifeguard hesitated momentarily then reached for his two-way radio. A senior lifeguard quickly joined them and questioned George anxiously. What did Jean look like, her age, the direction she had gone and could she have entered the water without him knowing?
Within minutes a rubber dinghy was launched. “We’re just taking precautions,” the senior lifeguard said. “We want to make sure your wife didn’t go into the surf.”
The alarm was raised and several lifeguards set off down the beach in the direction Jean had gone. From fishermen on the distant rocky foreshore to the beach-goers, sunbathing on the sand, no one had seen Jean returning from her walk.
An hour later the police arrived and began questioning him. They insisted on ringing George’s home at regular intervals. “It’s possible your wife could have returned home,” a female constable commented.
George glared at her. “Hardly likely, seeing my car is still in the parking lot and our house is more than five kilometres away.”
By midafternoon the search at the beach had been scaled down.
“There’s little we can do here, sir,” the senior police officer said. “I suggest we return to your home, and continue our investigations from there.”
George lived in a gated residential village for the over fifties, and he sensed his neighbours prying eyes as he ushered the police into his house.
The events of the day had been too much for him. He was tired and sunburnt and needed to use the toilet. When he returned the senior officer was on the phone and George looked at him expectantly.
“I need to check something out,” the officer said. “Would you mind if I left you with Constable Harris to take some more details? I’ll be back shortly.”
For the next half-hour the policewoman questioned George regarding Jean’s movements earlier that day. Was she on medication, she asked, and had she suffered any recent illnesses. They were trying to select a recent photograph of Jean when the police officer returned. He was followed by George’s old friend and golfing partner, Jerry Parker. Jerry was a local GP and had been their doctor since he retired. The look on Jerry’s face told George what he did not want to hear. His knees suddenly buckled and he collapsed into a nearby lounge chair.
“She’s dead isn’t she, Jerry?” George stammered.
“I’m afraid so, George,” Parker replied with sadness in his voice.
“How did it happen?” George asked, not really wanting to hear the answer.
“We found her in the bedroom, mate. She’d taken an overdose of sleeping tablets.”
George’s chin fell to his chest and he began to weep as Parker rummaged in his medical bag. “Let me give you something, George, it’ll help you rest.”
Several minutes later George was dozing restlessly.
The female police constable looked beyond the lounge room to the bedroom at the end of the hall. “When did they find the body?” she asked softly.
“It was almost ten years ago,” the doctor replied.
Constable Harris looked confused. “She died ten years ago?”
“Yes,” the doctor replied. “Something must have snapped at the beach today causing George’s mind to regress; beyond that terrible incident all those years ago.”
The doctor closed his medical case. “George and Jean had argued that morning. He stormed out of the house and went to the beach for a swim. When he returned home he found his wife dead. She’d taken her life.” The doctor looked down at his sleeping friend. “The poor old bugger has never been able to forgive himself.”
From a distance George could hear their voices as he sat slumped in his chair. Then the voices began to fade. Suddenly he found himself back on the beach scanning the shoreline, just as he had done earlier that day.
He stood, shielding his eyes from the late afternoon sun, searching the now deserted beach - deserted except for the person hurrying towards him. It was Jean, waving to him. “Where have you been, George?” she called. “I was looking everywhere for you.”
The doctor shook his head as he watched his friend slip away and, for a moment there was a contented smile on George’s face.
“Go to her, old mate,” the doctor whispered, as he closed his friend’s eyes.
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