Commissioner George Hendry had watched as Robert walked away, disappearing around a boarded up sweet stall that was in desperate need of a fresh coat of paint. He felt deep shame at what he had done to the man he had somewhat help raise.
Given enough leverage, it had taken Doc Harleson little to make him betray Robert.

George remained sat on the cold steel bench up on the promenade and waited as the tide slowly rolled in. His wife's red beret beside him, saved her space. George removed his official dress cap and placed it down on top of the beret. The wind was picking up and he didn't want the rouge cap to blow away. Angela liked the red one the most.

George clapped his hands together in attempt to conjure up some warmth. He looked at the thin mottled skin that covered his boney fingers and sighed. There was a slight tremor in them, but it was still subtle enough to hide from others.
'I'm getting old' he thought. With a snort, he corrected himself 'I am old'

The sound of the surf was growing louder by the minute. George looked up as he thrust his hands into his armpits, his fingers still seeking that allusive warmth promised them. The grey cold sea was lapping high on the beach, almost wetting the feet of the skeletal Ferris wheel. The wheel was missing all of its carriages now and the smaller rides surrounding it were covered in tarpaulins. Mothballed for the winter.
George knew from their many visits, that the sea would never reach the rickety wheel, nor its brethren rides down on the sand. He knew that at the last minute the tide would turn and run back from whence it came.

A seagull swooped down screaming over George's head, startling him. He waved a hand at it and shouted "Piss off!"

It was probably searching for an unsuspecting chip toting tourist, George guessed. He had to smile at what, during the summer would have been a funny sight, a dive bombing chip snatcher. Now though, it was a cold autumn day and there was no unsuspecting tourist to prey upon. The gull turned tail and flew off towards the Sea front shops, where there was a better chance of stray food.

George tiredly pushed himself up from the bench and winced as his joints creaked and cracked. With slow footsteps he walked over to the cast iron railings that prevented wayward people plummeting the 10 feet or so to the beach below. He grasped hold, wrapped his finger around the bars and squeezed until his already pale fingers became almost transparent. He could feel little strength in his once strong hands. He hated that they were now fragile and feeble hands of an old man.

Ashamed of himself, he let out moan of misery.
'Hands that couldn't protect my beautiful Angel.

As tears rolled down his cheeks, George watched as his beautiful Angel dipped her feet in the freezing water. He moaned in misery again as images of their horrific attack flashed unwanted behind his raw eyes. He tried not to remember but couldn't help it. He focused his burning hatred on the man, the monster who broke into their home, tied them up and raped his beautiful Angel there in front of him. George wiped at his face as he remembered laying helplessly, as he struggled weakly at his bonds, as he failed to protect the one he loved so very much.

Wracked with guilt, George leaned over the railing and sobbed hopelessly and openly. Blinded with tears, he neither notice nor cared as passers by slowed, wondering what was wrong with the old fool. None stopped to enquire as of his welfare.

With a drawn out 'Aargh' George exhaled until his lungs were empty. He wiped his face with his forearm, not caring for his uniform. He remembered when he had asked Angie to marry him, forty two years ago. He had donned his dress uniform and shined his shoes till mirror like. An officer friend drove him, in a squad car to the bank where she worked and there in front of all the banks customers, proposed. She had said yes, but commented that she was marrying the man not the uniform. He never suspected back then that he had in fact married the uniform first and her second.

It took an effort of will for George to raise his head, to see his beautiful Angel skip in the surf. He winced in shame , he didn't deserve this vision of loveliness. George knew that although she looked happy there on the beach, she was in fact a broken woman inside. Her heart had suffered so much sadness and hurt that her mind no longer engaged fully with the world. He had always known that she had a little sadness in her. Angela would say all was fine and that she was happy but the sadness of being barren had followed her everywhere. He wished it had been him who could not provide the baby she so very much desired. He wished it was he who had carried that sadness all these years instead of her. The doctors had said that of the two of them it was Angela that was incapable of conceiving, not him. Life was so very unfair.

George would watched as she put on a show for people at party's or when they had visitors over but when the doors and curtains were shut, her whole demeanour changed. Her shoulders would sag and her eyes would lose their sparkle and become dull and lost. She would wrap her arms around herself for protection, because, he believed, he couldn't or hadn't. It was heartbreaking to watch her transformation. Only at the beach did George get to see some of her old self but even then only at a distance.

With trembling fingers, George unbuttoned his jacket. Each gold button popped through their corresponding eye until the jacket was fully undone. With slow methodical, almost military precision, George folded his jacket and brushed off nonexistent lint. He placed the crisply folded garment down beside his hat before sitting and removing both his shoes and socks.
He bent down and placed his black brogues under the bench and proceeded to roll up the cuffs on his trouser legs. Once finished he look to the waters edge and saw his beautiful Angel laughing and holding out a hand towards him. She was beckoning him to come and join her, to come and paddle bare foot in the freezing water beside her. How could he refuse.

His cheeks now dry and a smile blossoming on his face, George tiptoed barefoot to the nearby concrete steps, most of which were buried beneath drift sand and made his way onto the beach. Down at the waters edge, he stood by his beautiful Angel's side and smiled lovingly at her and took her hand in his. Together they tentatively stepped into the mirky water and as he thought, it was freezing. He gasped and Angela laughed and pulled him further in, until water splashed up to their knees. George had to laugh as his trousers were quickly soaked through. Angela pulled him along until they were waist deep. He gasped again, this time it was more than just his toes that were inundated by the artic like water.

George was never happier than when he was with his beautiful Angel but as he looked sideways at her, the fleeting happiness he had just been feeling dissolved and blew away with the autumn breeze.
Angela had stopped wading through the water and now stood staring out to sea. The warm smile of happiness on her face slowly dropped, until a cold blue grimace of sheer misery etched itself deeply into her frail skin. Her once beautiful bright green eyes were now dull, lifeless and milky. Angela turned her head to look at George and with almost soundless words, said "I'm sorry my love"

Angela's hand slipped through George's weak trembling fingers to splash down into the murky water. She continued to wade into the deeper current. George opened his mouth to say something but closed it without uttering a word and watched as she pulled away from him. He knew this day was coming, he just hadn't known what he would do when it arrived. Now it was here, he just stood waist deep in the freezing waters of the Humber and watched as the love of his life began to paddle her hands against the tide.

"No" George said to himself.

"No!" He said louder.

"NO, WAIT!" He shouted at Angela, who was now up to her shoulders. He saw her turn slightly to take a final glimpse of him.

Eyes connected, George said to her "Wait for me"

Realising he was unable to live without her, George pushed his way deeper and deeper into the sea towards his beautiful Angel. The water now up to his chest, George called out quietly "I'm coming my beautiful Angel, I'm coming"

With desperately reaching fingers, George grasped hold of Angels hand and pulled himself up besides her. He smiled sadly at her and followed her gaze to the horizon. They walked to meet it. He felt Angela's cold hand dissolve through his fingers and watched as she too faded away into the only thing he had left of her, memory. George, determined, waded on. He wouldn't be without her a minute longer.