The eternal hedonist

This topic came from a discussion one night over a few pots of ale down the PackHorse pub in Leeds.  I can't recall what the discussionn was but it was agreed that it should be the next task for the Leeds Savages.  

 
The eternal hedonist

The afternoon noises wafting up from the beach fell on her ears in waves of pleasurable cries and happy shouts. Sarah smiled wistfully at the thought of the dad, wife and kids dancing and mucking about in her sand and surf.

She'd lived so close to the beach for the past two years she had come to think of this piece of coast as hers. The mornings usually saw her walking at the edge of the waves, trailing her toes through the sea foam, ankles swished by the thrust and draw of the salty water. She was endlessly amused at the way her feet sank ever so slightly into the sand as the wash retreated to its tempting depths.

Unexpectedly falling into a life of beach combing had turned out to be endlessly rewarding and surprisingly fulfilling.  Her life-long opportunism and antipathy to goal setting was completely satisfied by the way her days rolled simply along.

 Granted, the small, weathered timber house with its permanent  gulls and occasional leaking roof was not how she had imagined surviving her fourth decade on the planet , but from the first night she had slept there it had enveloped her with a nurturing calm and a welcome solace.  Cosseted by its patched walls and protecting her from the elements it also provided her the privacy she craved.  Sarah was  enthralled by the dwelling's proximity to her beloved beach and she was not at all motivated to seek a more substantial alternative. 

There were other ways in which she preferred this slower life, for one, there were much fewer daily demands placed on her.  The tailored bankers suits, Jimmy Choo shoes, bespoke silk lingerie and latest fashion blouses of her past life never called out to her to release them from their vacuum packed flatness.  Loose cotton throws and cheap bikini bottoms were her current wardrobe and on some days these exceeded her clothing needs. 

Sarah's mornings mostly broke to the rising gleam from sub-tropical sunbeams cresting the horizon.  The rare rainy days provided a welcome waking novelty of patter on the tin roof and gurgles falling to the water tank outside her room.  Such a wonderful change from her time-structured life in the crushing city.  Now she woke when she felt like it, no make-up or hair protocol to be managed, a slow breakfast and  a long soak if she felt like one.  The only routine, at some time in the day, depending on low tides, was her collecting walk along the beach to deftly swoop on left treasures. 
It was an enduring bemusement to her that people thought leaving their valuables in their towels or shoes was the pinnacle of beach camouflage and security.   Sarah never stole, but it was amazing how grateful people were when she ran up to them, at the right moment, saying she had stopped the local kids and had recovered the wallet or valuable.  It was key to allow enough time prior to the return for confusion, anger and acceptance to be played out.  It was a fun game with many subtle skills she had perfected over months,.  Not the least of the skills was the remembering if she had targeted the person before.  Early on she had nearly come a cropper by almost playing the game twice on the same girl, so now she kept records on the phone hooked to her bikini.  She made it a point too of picking people she was certain were international or inter-state tourists.  Wallets, purses or identity had become her prime target.  Returning loose change and trinkets was not sufficiently rewarding.   A girl can't live on thank-yous.  Besides, she needed  their I.D. it let her check notes on her phone that she had not hit this target before. 

This morning was an ideal example of the payback from her accurate record keeping.  The driver licence had said George Roberts, a very forgettable name but it did have a city address which should have been a memory trigger.  The phone quickly matched up the details with her code for a very generous reward from last summer.   So, a counter-ploy was needed if she was going to work this donor again.  Maybe another gift or even a meal could be solicited if she played it right.  Sarah replaced George’s driving licence inside his deck shoe and made sure she was sitting within easy sight when he returned. She gazed out towards the horizon, slightly away from her target, sure she could be seen but certain she appeared unaware of him returning.
George noticed her as he reached down for his towel.  'Sarah?' his voice immediately recognisable.  She slowly turned her head, it was a  small thrill to her that he had remembered her name.  As she saw him walking towards her in the flesh she remembered money was not the only reward he had given her last summer.  Her phone's note system didn't have a code for that though.  

‘My god, Sarah?  Is that you? It is, isn’t it!  You still slumming it here?  Gees, how have you been?  I thought you said you were heading back off overseas.'  The flood of questions streamed out as he helped her up and gave her a connected kiss on the cheek.  
Familiar but demure, Sarah thought, considering their past passions.  She responded by giving him as shy a smile as she thought appropriate under the circumstances.  
‘Yep, things stayed good here. I decided to hang around.  How about you?  What are you doing back here?  You told me you thought the south coast was hateful, if I remember.’ 

‘Yeah.  May have said that.  Truth is, my old dad lives down here and I drag the wife and kids down every year.’

‘Shit , you didn’t tell me you were married.‘

‘Well I wouldn’t, would I?  Had a good time though didn’t we?'  George rested his hand briefly on the rise of her hip. 'And , wasn't as if you were without the odd fib were you?  Have you left me my keys this time?’ he grinned conspiratorially as he glanced towards his  shoes.

Sarah flushed.  ‘ What are you talking about?’ 

George's grin turned to a smirk.  ‘Huh.  Whatever.  Anyway that bit of fun’s not going to happen this time, Lizzy is bringing our kids down soon, so for the kids sake, best we leave that all aside don’t you think?’ 

Sarah was rapidly working her angles, ‘Yeah.  I guess.  I do recall some very pleasant afternoons though.  Your wife must be a happy lass, all being well in her garden so to speak.  It wouldn’t be that nice for her to learn about us I suppose.’
No cloud drifted across George's face as he responded quickly.  ‘No point thinking along those lines there Sarah, Lizzy’s the eternal hedonist,  fantastic mum , great wife, fun to be around, and there is no exclusivity for us, we are quite open about all that,.  She’s a happier lass than you could imagine. Playing away is who we are. All is well in both our gardens.’

‘Oh, Okay then. I guess. I suppose I am happy for you.’ Sarah lied.

‘I doubt you care Sarah, but anyway, its been fun to see you again, good memories huh?’   George smiled again, a genuine smile, slipped on his shoes  and with a cheery wave headed off to the car park to gather up his family.  

 Sarah watched him disappear down the path as she tried to think of another angle.  Nothing came to her. 

She cast her eyes back to her beach and spotted, not far away, the snow-white flesh of a new arrival neatly rolling his possessions into a union flag beach towel before heading with enthusiasm into the waves. She waited for him to dive in, waited for him to look back to check no one was near his treasures, then she waited some more until he began to pay the necessary attention to the waves.   Another bit of beach combing fun had started.