Elle hunkered down into the sofa, shoulders hunched and arms crossed. The voice – his voice – carried on its hectoring. What had Elle thought she was doing? Why had she taken up with those difficult women? What did she, a comfortably off middle class mother and wife, have to do with that rag tag lot?
He had driven to the Common to fetch her, ignoring her note saying she was away for three days, would return on Monday evening. There was food in the fridge.
How were the children meant to cope with a mother who gallivanted off at any second, abandoning them?
The children were at university. They would approve their mother’s actions, she hoped. Weren’t students meant to be like the so-called rag tag lot, protesting at the likely death of the planet? Elle shifted. Sarah would, with her torn jeans and floating embroidered smocks. James, studying engineering, was more a chip off his old man’s block. More’s the pity.
Elle raised her eyes, staring past her glowering husband. Through the rope-tied drawn back curtains the early afternoon darkened. All their way home from the Common, roiling clouds had tracked them, tumbling over each other, the mass swelling until it filled the horizon. Now the storm was fast approaching.
Elle’s own storm too, her emotions aping the clouds, broiling and bubbling until at last they must spill in a torrent of words and actions.
She uncrossed her arms, lifted her chin.
‘You may think what you like,’ she said, interrupting the diatribe. ‘I’m off now, back to the Common.’ She stood and strode to the door, legs trembling, pulse thudding in her neck.
She paused, stared out to where the storm had broken. The wind whipped the branches of the willow into a dancing mass of green. Great drops of rain bent the stems of this year’s perennials, flattened the border annuals, and tore her conscientously tended roses into blowsy shreds.
Bringing the garden back to its showcase glory would be a long job. But not her job.
She turned to him. ‘It’s unlikely I’ll be back.’ Elle had her own storm damage to deal with.
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The storm was fast approaching and Bob, who had been happily fishing in the bay since early that morning, knew he was in trouble.
His 16-foot dinghy with its small outboard motor would never cope with the choppy seas he knew the accompanying wind would whip up.
Rapidly hauling in his fishing lines, he headed for shore as quickly as possible.
Black clouds hung over him and lightening, accompanied by thunderous claps, flashed brightly as his boat was flung about in the rising waves.
“Bloody hell,” he thought as he fought to keep the dinghy’s bow on a landward course.
Suddenly, the outboard motor spluttered then died and the small boat began to yaw precariously.
Grimly holding onto the sides, Bob tried to keep his balance as he tried desperately to restart the engine.
No luck there – and a giant wave caught him totally unawares, throwing him mercilessly into the churning waters.
At the same time, his boat capsized and he thrashed frantically to avoid being struck. Bob quickly realised it was the only safe haven from certain drowning as he clung desperately to the upturned hull agonisingly trying to maintain a finger hold.
Through the darkness and wind whipped spray he could just make out lights on the shoreline, a distant and, he thought, poor source of comfort.
“Think I might be stuck here for the night,” he said to no one in particular, resigning himself to a long wait before help might arrive.
The water was cold and he began to feel numb. Undoubtedly, hypothermia was beginning to affect him and he wondered how long he could maintain his precarious finger hold before his hands gave out.
Bob tried hauling himself further up onto the hull but the boat began dipping beneath the surface, making it difficult to hold on.
A light flashed in the darkness – accompanied by a voice, clear over the noise of the storm.
“Are you all right?” it bellowed.
“No, no I’m not – I can’t hang on much longer.”
“Don’t worry, mate, we’ll be right there.” And Bob heaved a huge sigh of relief.
Poor woman. At the end of her tether. I know what it is like to run around adult kids. We are still doing it!!!!
Ha!