By Denise Diehl

Michael opened the door and stared, ‘Wow, the view is spectacular!’ He gazed around, pleased with his choice of accommodation.

Veronica followed quickly on his heels, pushed past her husband, and scowled as she took in the tiny room, old sagging couches and lino floors. The place was a typical 1950’s batch-style cabin. ‘This place is a dump! You should have left the bookings to me. I would have gotten us something better.’ She harrumphed with her hands on her hips and cast a tight-lipped frown at him. 

He winced under her disapproving stare and spread his hands. ‘Oh well, it’s clean and tidy and only for two nights. V, come on, let’s enjoy our time here.’

Veronica moved over to the big bay window and took in the sweeping view of the little seaside town’s harbour with the lookout hill in the distance and the busy fish and chippie shop down on the old ramshackle of a wharf in the foreground. The car park below was emptying of cars, and a steady stream of tourists armed with brown cardboard boxes were returning from the popular takeaway. 

‘It’s a piece of Southland history, this place, it’s the genuine thing, and they say the blue cod is amazing down here.’ Michael moved to stand by his wife at the window. He turned toward her and noticed her angry face and pouty lips, but she was still gorgeous to look at. He loved her petite figure, lush brown hair tied up elegantly, finely chiselled face and delicate hands. He sighed.

Veronica pointed angrily at Michael. ‘Like I said in the car, you know I love shops. There’s nothing here, just a beach and old cottages. It’ll be boring and—’

‘Well, there’s quite a bit of wildlife around like seals, penguins, and then there’s—’

‘You’re kidding, right? Not in my high heels.’

‘Well, remember the doctor said rest is what’s needed. A change in scenery and fresh air will do you good. Read some magazines, relax and have a quiet weekend.’ Michael cooed as he leaned in to sneak a kiss. 

‘I relax when I’m browsing clothes stores, dammit!’ She pushed him away.

Michael observed the scene below. The cabin sat high off the road at the front of the camping ground. It was a primo spot. ‘Let’s get down to that fish shop everyone raves about, aye?’

‘No, thank you. After you unpack, I’ll have wine and lunch at that nearby tavern. I’m not eating out of a newspaper in some greasy, grubby joint that smells of fish.’

Michael winced and began to unpack, and left Veronica curled up on the bed to read her magazine. He hoped she’d mellow during the afternoon. It was a pleasant day, warm with the last of the summer rays and no wind. The sea sparked, and the sound of its gentle wash on the sand was hypnotic and calming. He breathed the raw salt smell and thought of kids playing on the beach, picnic food in an old wicker basket and screams of delight as children rushed into the waves. Exhilarating. 

They had no children. 

He snuck a quick look at his wife and pursed his lips. Their relationship had soured over the last twelve months. He had no idea why. At the end of last year, she had come into a lot of money from an inheritance, which may have started the animosity. Suddenly, she cessed to see him as her handsome, debonair man, provider and protector. He knew he was still good-looking, athletically fit and held a good-paying job. Perhaps she saw him as no longer a necessity that he had been when they married five years ago. He had never minded supporting her, as she made it very clear that she never intended to work. He was happy she was independent and even encouraged her to go about her routines and excursions freely. He gave her everything she wanted and more. He had been enamoured of her, but now … 

A darkness gripped his heart and he frowned.

 ‘Come on, V, a little walk before lunch will do you good, and I need to stretch my legs after all that driving.’ He paused as he weighed up his following words. The old Veronica he’d fallen in love with was a keen collector of semi-precious stones found on beaches—her only hobby that involved getting her hands dirty, besides finding small objet d’art of value in up-market second-hand shops. ‘They say there are agates on the beach below the Lookout hill.’ He pointed as he turned toward her. He held his breath and waited. His face became hot and flush and his heart hammered his ribcage till it hurt.

Veronica dropped her magazine and stared agape at him. ‘Really, Why didn’t you tell me that important information right at the beginning? Let’s get over there before someone else beats us to them!’ She sprang off the bed and had her shoes and coat on before he could say another word. 

He eyed her, disappearing out the front door, and quickly followed. He knew there would be no turning back from the course he had set. 

#

They followed the gravel path around the bay, past the takeaway on the wharf, which had quietened down now that it displayed an “all out of Blue Cod” sign, and headed to Lookout Hill. Veronica walked at a fast clip and kept telling Michael to get a move on. He eyed her and nodded acquiescence.

‘Try and not rush V. The doctor has warned you of your inner ear problem—it throws you off balance. Plus, you’ve got low blood pressure. We really should have had lunch first,’ he yelled as she raced ahead, and he tried to keep up. She was an unstoppable tigress on a hunt and did not tolerate lesser beings. 

Veronica snorted and quickened her pace.

Michael shook his head in tired exasperation and sighed as he struggled with his inner turmoil. ‘Slow down, V, and be careful. The ground is uneven and slippery. Don’t worry if someone else has got to those beautiful agates first. There will be more another day.’ He paused and thought about his words. Did he really want to embark on this path? Could he even stop what he knew would come? Michael felt strangely detached. Fate swept them along a path like desert brambles, and fate would decide the outcome. He was allowing his wife to throw caution aside in her greedy, all-consuming passion. He knew what the hill track was like. He’d spent many a summer here in his childhood years. Nothing had changed. He swallowed and felt his throat tightened. He grimaced as he watched her and suddenly felt a wave of urgency. No, no, he must save her from herself. Michael broke into a run.

Veronica laughed at him as she broke into a mad scramble. She flung open the gate to the Lookout Hill track and zoomed up the slope. She stopped near the cliff’s edge facing the sea, spun around angrily and screamed down at him as he knew she would. ‘There’s no beach below, only jagged rocks and nasty seals. You’ve put me wrong!’

In a flash of a movement a giant seagull appeared behind Veronica shoulder and screeched most terrifyingly.

‘Watch out, V! Behind you!’ Michael yelled in panic from the footpath at the bottom of the hill as Veronica simultaneously whirled in fright at the screech. Her arms flailed in the air as she lost her balance and tumbled over the cliff edge.

Michael raced to the gate and fumbled with the catch as another tourist drove into the car park below the lookout. He turned to the car, gesticulated crazily to the driver, and screamed, ‘My wife. I think she’s fallen off the cliff. Please help!’

The two men arrived at the cliff top and looked over the edge. The stranger turned his head and threw up.

Michael stared unseeing, his eyes burning with tears and his mind telling him

What a spectacular view!

*   *   *

Denise Diehl spent the last forty-plus years working in Laboratory Science. She retired with her husband to a small rural town in New Zealand to write her first novels and short stories—a fun and new adventure to match the latest decade of her life. She will have her first story published this December in an overseas magazine.