The Anniversary
(continued)
George knew divorce would be out of the question. Beryl had strong
views about the sanctity of marriage and besides, to be fair to
George, he had never really been interested in other women. (Few
of them liked sailing, from what he had gathered; sailing away in
a boat was not something that seemed to appeal to most women). He
would be hard put to it to make a case for divorce on any other
grounds. Anyway, he and Beryl had each taken out sizeable life insurance
policies in the early years of their marriage, so the solution was
clear… Beryl must depart this life, and not before too long
if he had anything to do with it.
Bloodthirsty he was not, and she was the mother of his children,
so whatever George devised must not be too painful, and must either
be an unfortunate accident or death by natural causes. It was not
going to be easy. There would be a great deal of thinking to do.
One thing he was sure of. There was going to be no third party involved.
You couldn't trust anyone. They could blackmail you in the future.
Make a botch of it. Anything. No, he must do it himself, unaided.
Beryl had always kept fairly healthy, despite her fondness for
cream cakes and her smoking habit; another black mark against her
in George's book. For the life of him he couldn't see how there
could be a sudden deterioration in her health. Not one that wouldn't
arouse suspicion. And then the idea came to him.
Recently, in his spare moments at lunchtime, George had been visiting
the surrounding boatyards. They lived close to the river Severn
so there were plenty to choose from. On one of these jaunts he had
come across a new venture called "The Boathouse Inn" -
a restaurant cum boathouse with a small artificial lake on which
less ambitious sailors could have a go, with little or no risk.
They had an anniversary coming up and they always reckoned to celebrate
with a little outing to a restaurant. This had become a ritual as
far as Beryl was concerned. Why not take her somewhere different
this year, to the new "Boathouse Inn". He had dropped
by one evening on the way home from Bestbuys and noticed little
coloured lights strung in the trees surrounding the lake. One or
two couples had small boats out, in the dark, and that's when the
idea hit him.
Beryl seemed surprised and pleased with his suggestion of somewhere
different on their anniversary this year and promptly made an appointment
with the hairdresser for that same afternoon. Besides, she was relieved,
if for no other reason, than that she wouldn't have to bother to
cook that evening; one of the reasons she kept up the annual ritual
of a meal out. She prayed for fine weather; so often when she had
her hair done the heavens would open and a wind would spring up,
driving rain beneath her umbrella.
George arrived home punctually from Bestbuys that evening. He was
hoping the good weather would last so he could put his plans into
operation. Beryl was busy getting ready, having a bath and trying
not to get her crisp new hairdo wet. She worked during the morning
in a nearby garage and so had been free to go to the hairdressers
in the afternoon.
Unusually for him, George turned up this evening with a bottle
of gin and some tonic. Not difficult when you worked in a supermarket
but not something he had ever done before. He explained to Beryl
that he felt in a celebratory mood and that it wasn't every day
you'd been married for twenty-seven years. She was quite overcome
by this show of what she thought was sentimentality and agreed to
have a drink before they set off. He hummed to himself in the kitchen
as he sliced up a lemon and took ice from the refrigerator.
Just a trifle tiddly, but no more, they got into their shiny new
little Nissan Sunny and drove off in a happy frame of mind to their
rendezvous at "The Boathouse Inn". They were shown to
their table overlooking the lake and pretty soon, after another
gin and tonic each, were tucking in: George into rump steak and
chips and Beryl into fried scampi and chips, washed down with their
favourite sweet white wine. George persuaded his wife to indulge
in a sickly dessert. After coffee, without consulting Beryl, he
ordered two cognacs and, after those gins and tonic and wine, she
lost all resolution and, with a giggle, sipped her brandy.
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