Wild Orchids: Chapter Eight
Have you read the previous chapter yet?
At last, the weather had cleared and the sun shone bravely through the clouds. But on days such as this, as he walked, George was reminded of what it would be like in Fingal Sound in the summer.
Fingal Sound, he thought, must owe its very existence to the attractive location - nestled between the ocean and a backdrop of rugged, densely timbered hills. He guessed that most coastal towns, had a considerable number of inhabitants, who were refugees from the city. Most likely to seek the seek the mild sea climate, the pure sea air and the benefits of downsizing.
He brushed against a bush and saw a fat brown spider patiently poised in the middle of a glistening web. He spoke to it in a soft voice.
‘Here’s something especially for you. It’s from As You Like It. “The web of our life is of a mingled Yarn, good and ill together.” He added under his breath, the signs are there, it will be a good day. He planned to spend a few pleasant hours in the botanical gardens, simply enjoying the slanting rays of the early winter sun warming his body. It was a decision he would come to regret.
Sitting comfortably amidst the earthy garden aromas, he closed his eyes and allowed his mind to drift unchecked. The sudden sharp yap of a dog made him jump. He opened his eyes and saw a woman approaching with three dogs straining on their leash. She was youngish, attractive, slim, with long dark brown hair. She wore navy track suit pants and a short woollen coat. She nodded and smiled.
George, always ready for a chat, he smiled in return and said,
‘A restless mob you’ve got there. Are they yours?’
‘No, definitely not,’ she said with a loud chuckle.
‘May I ask, who do they belong to then? He reached over and patted the nosey Jack Russell, who had nuzzled his way into the conversation.
‘A couple of months ago I lost my full-time job and with two kids to feed and care for I took up a friend’s offer to dog-sit. It supplements the dole at present. Maybe I can build up a decent clientele to do this permanently.’
‘Well, I hope things will work out the way you wish.’
The dogs, yapping and straining on their leashes, had decided it was time to move on.
George watched as she was dragged by the three eager dogs. She seemed stoic and cheerfully determined to battle on, he thought, just as he tried to supress the guilt of his past actions.
He couldn’t.
He felt the shame as he had once felt it. He winced as he re-called the loud voice and the loud footsteps as they marched into his brother, Rohan’s office, and demanded the whereabouts of Ronald George Greenway. It had only been a matter of time; he was sure of that. Even so, when he heard the approaching footsteps and the loud knock on the door of his small office, he froze. Then, as he was marched out the door by the two police officers, he saw the astonished look on Rohan’s face.
That was the day his life changed for ever.
As he sat listening to the wind gently caressing the remaining leaves, and the joyful bird chatter around him, those unwanted memories that had brought him to his present situation in that pleasant place of his choosing, would not go away.
The whole wretched episode had started so innocently, George remembered. How could he have known, when he began to take small bets with his colleagues, that it would, in time, grow out of control like a cancer. He tried to conceal the mounting losses, and then the threats of serious harm. Ultimately, the lies to Rohan, asking for part time work, because his chosen career was never enough to satisfy his wife’s growing demands.
He released a loud sigh. Tears welled as he asked himself the question again, as he had done so many times over the last few years. Why had he let the situation escalate?
He’d had everything. A good education, a career as a professional musician, a wife, a son, a supportive brother and a previously reputation. Yet nothing could save him. Everything imploded in that one terrible moment when he was arrested marched out of Rohan’s offices and straight into a ‘Divvy' van and to a police cell.
He put this head in his hands and wept bitterly; he could hold back no longer.
The sound of shuffling footsteps coming toward him on the gravel path had him quickly wiping away the tears. He looked up through tear-streaked eyes, saw Rufus, who he knew was also living tough. Rufus sat beside him.
‘G’day George, lovely day ain’t it,’ he croaked and with a wide toothless smile, added, ‘wouldn’t be dead for quids, eh?’
George could find no ready response. Instead, he rose to his feet and excused himself.
‘Sorry Ruf, I’ve just remembered, I’ve got a spot of shopping to do before I head home. See you around.’
He desperately needed to clear his mind of the negative thoughts that forced themselves into his head. Passing the supermarket, he suddenly decided to surprise Archie with a little treat that night. For that night’s nosh up, he selected a can of beef stew and as a special treat, a large can of minestrone soup.
With the two precious tins of beef stew and minestrone soup rattling in his shopper, George crossed the highway and walked along the foreshore past the pier, to the roaring accompaniment of crashing breakers, a familiar comforting sound that seeped into his rattled head.
