Very Dead

She was dead,  clearly very dead.   He had to work hard to keep his expression devoid of the exhilaration bubbling up inside.

Just a couple of hours earlier they had both climbed into the boat, carrying a wicker picnic basket and a cool box.   He steered the little craft effortlessly out towards the open sea, cut the engine and sat back to savour the glass of champagne she proffered him.  

“We did it! We did it, we can happily toast our success now.  To us!”

“Yes, the takeover went smoothly in the end”.   she replied, but didn’t lift her glass.  “And now, James, I want a divorce”.

The words sank in slowly.  Like hell you do, he thought, over my dead body - or more probably yours. 

Neither of them noticed the black clouds rolling in.   The storm erupted suddenly and with a breathtaking violence, whipping up the sea into a swirling cauldron, rain falling in a tropical torrent and the black sky ripped asunder by lightening.  She clung desperately to the sides of the boat while he attempted to restart the outboard motor.  It refused to cooperate, despite his frantic efforts.  With no resistance, the puny craft was tossed hither and thither like an empty matchbox.

Now she was clinging to him while he battled to position the oars in a desperate attempt to regain some control.    It was useless.  A fierce gust brought a huge wave which lifted her from her feet and, clinging as she was to him, sent them both over the side into the maelstrom.   He struggled to free himself from her vice like grip, while the boat moved farther and farther away.  Without the boat they were both finished.  Summoning all his strength, he kicked her away savagely and struck out towards the vanishing boat.  The sea was wild and the waves buffeted him relentlessly but his need to reach the boat was paramount. Her cries for help were quickly carried away on the wind.  Somehow he managed to get a hand on the prow of the boat, he relaxed a little and let the waves  and the boat take him where they would.  At last he could inhale and fill his lungs with air, the oxygen flooding his brain and filling him with a premature euphoria.  Now he needed to climb aboard somehow.  With Hardly a warning, the storm was abating, allowing him  to pull himself to relative safety .  He lay totally spent in the bottom of the boat for God only knows how long, before his brain reconnected and he forced himself to sit up and look back.  The sea was empty, nothing to show she had been there desperately struggling just a short time ago.

The inquest was today.  Her body had been washed up some miles to the south, and he,  as the bereaved husband, was here with her son and several other officials.     It did not take long to deliver a verdict of accidental death through drowning.   Any possibility of foul play was quickly dismissed for lack of motive.  Her husband had nothing to gain from her death, indeed a great deal to lose.  The deceased had changed her will several weeks prior to the the completion of  a very lucrative takeover bid.  It was solely in favour of her son.