Sunday, November 28, 2010

332. The ties that bind

Meredith met her match down at the wharf that fateful Saturday afternoon in late winter. Until disaster struck, she had been having a delightful time, as the saying goes, ‘simply mucking about in boats’. She had done this most weekends since leaving the family home in Haberfield and moving to a compact apartment in Elizabeth Bay. No-one in her family had much to do with the water prior to this, certainly none has ever considered sailing as a chosen past-time. This all changed when Meredith bought her place overlooking the marina. At the time, it was the right apartment in the right location. It was a wise investment.

She could see the giant masts. The voices of the sailors floated on the breeze. The ropes flapped. The hooks clanged. Sea-gulls wheeled overhead. Everything conspired against her.

Then, as she struggled down the gangplank with her victuals, Meredith collided with Pierre.


Joan Elizabeth said...

All that flapping and clanging and gulls wheeling just make me feel plain uncomfortable ... I am not a fan of the sea ... its a place to visit occasionally and then go home to peace.

Julie said...

So, I will write something similar with a rural setting .. let me find an image first.