Gone fishing

At the age of twenty five Elizabeth was beginning to feel that marriage might have passed her by. None of the young men she had met while she was growing up had ever proved to have a lasting attraction for her.

She lived in a seaside town and early in the mornings, or sometimes in the evenings after work, she would go for a breath of fresh air strolling along the promenade. Occasionally she would go out along the pier and watch the fishermen.

It was on the pier one fateful day, that she found herself admiring the easy swing of one particular young man’s shoulders as he half turned before casting his line far out to sea. She moved side ways sufficiently to be able to see his face as he made his cast and as he turned to make sure there was enough clear space behind him, she saw Raymond for the first time.

Their eyes met for an instant and they both felt the thrill of knowing that at last each of them had found their life’s partner. Raymond was so affected that he made a complete mess of his cast and the heavy weights on the end of his line hit the pier’s railing and wrapped the line around the pipe work. Elizabeth ran over to him and helped sort out the tangle.

Neither of them needed to say any more than just to exchange names. Liz and Ray untangled the line and packed up the rest of the fishing tackle before getting into Ray’s car and driving off to a restaurant in the town.

They spent the rest of the evening drinking endless cups of tea, holding hands and gazing speechlessly into each other’s eyes, until they were thrown out at closing time.

Still struck dumb with love, they agreed to marry and within three years had produced a couple of sturdy sons. Liz never forgot the happy laughter as a friend took pictures of the proud parents holding the babies in their arms. Ray would joke about the day he went fishing and came home with two of the best seven pounders he’d ever seen.

The boys soon inherited their father’s love of fishing. Once the boys were old enough, Ray would often come home and after the evening meal, hum a verse or two of the old song, “Gone fishing.” before taking the boys off to the beach.

During this time, Liz would usually stay at home and surprisingly often two excited boys and one just as excited husband, would come back with freshly caught fish that she would prepare and cook for their meal.

In the natural course of events the boys grew up and left home, leaving Ray and Liz on their own at last. Ray had grown into a slightly thickset man with salt and pepper hair, while Liz was getting a little dumpy, but still thought she was maturely attractive when she gazed at herself critically in the mirror.

Ray suggested that now they were free from the children they could hire a boat and go fishing together. Liz agreed enthusiastically, but soon found that the motion of the boat out at sea upset her and regretfully she had to stay at home whenever deep sea fishing took Ray’s fancy.

She got used to the fact that Ray would sometimes yearn for the deeper water to test his skills. He would come home with a faraway look in his eyes humming ‘Gone fishing’ under his breath. He always seemed pleasantly surprised when Liz provided him with a packet of sandwiches before he’d asked for them.

To fill in her increasingly empty days, Liz decided that since she was unable to accompany Ray on his deep sea fishing trips, she would take a part time job to while away the time. She soon found a position behind the souvenir counter of the local museum.

None the less the sparkle had gone out of their marriage by this time. Liz began to become suspicious of Ray’s increasingly frequent fishing trips, without a corresponding increase in the quantity of fish brought to the table. On one occasion, she was sure that the fish offered on his return was not fresh and this increased her doubts about him.

Then one fateful day Ray said he was taking up competition fishing and would have to be away from home for the odd weekend. He offered to take Liz with him, but she was none too keen on sitting through the evening post mortem, usually held in a pub after the day’s sport. So she declined his offer.

Within a couple of months the messages started. Ray would leave a quick note propped up on the vase in the middle of the dining room table. “Dear Liz, I’ve got the unexpected offer of a trip on a mate’s boat. So I’ve ‘gone fishing’. See you in two or three days time, love Ray.”

Dark thoughts about Ray’s new lifestyle increasingly began to occupy Liz’s mind. Then one day she came home early from work and chanced to see Ray getting on a bus just down the road from their house. She rushed indoors, dumped the shopping on the floor and dashed out to the car, following the bus route until she saw Ray getting off.

As she’d begun to fear, Ray was met by an attractive young woman, who greeted him very affectionately. Liz followed them as they walked along the road with their arms round each other, before entering a small hotel near the seafront.

Just to make sure that this wasn’t a one off infatuation; Liz drove to the address whenever Ray left one of his little notes on the dining room table, telling her he was going out deep sea fishing. Every time she watched her husband and the same girl entering the hotel.

On the third occasion she decided enough was enough. She drove home, packed her bags and wrote Ray a note that she propped up against the vase. It was very short, only two words in fact. “Gone fishing”

----OOOO----