Chloe at the Park.

The sea lapped lazily at the side of the harbour and the sun shone down on them. Chloe liked this man, he reminded her that she was without a grandfather and that he might do the job well. In a bid to pass the time away more quickly Chloe attempted to find out a bit more about him.

" Who is Josephine?" he looked startled when she asked this question.

"Josephine, is the girl I am waiting for." This reply was a little cryptic but his voice was loving. " Why are you going to the island?" he asked Chloe attempting to take the conversation away from Josephine.

" I have sort of ...... run away. I need some time and space to help sort things out in my head." He nodded as though he knew exactly what Chloe was talking about.

" The island is a good place for quiet thinking" he said in a melancholy voice. Chloe was still curious about Josephine.

"Does Josephine live on the island?"

"Not any more, She's coming back now on the ferry you'll be taking over there.

"Is she your wife?"

"No" After a few minutes of silence Chloe spotted the ferry approaching.

" Can you see her?" she asked, watching his blue eyes scan and scour the figures on the deck and on the gangplank. "Josephine, is she there?" But he is too busy combing the crowd to answer.

Now the deck is deserted, the gangplank bare and the passengers dispersed. He turns to Chloe,

"I'm waiting for Josephine," he tells her looking disorientated and down. Chloe feels concerned for him and cross with Josephine.

"Why don't I take the next ferry? I could wait with you." Chloe suggested.

"No, no, the island awaits you. I'm waiting for Josephine, she'll be here soon. Perhaps on the next ferry."

Chloe shuffled and wished him well. He said good luck but his watery eyes are else where, forever scanning. As the ferry moved she watched his figure diminish. A part of her wanted to be back with him but anyway, Josephine had probably just missed the boat.

After Chloe had spent two days on the island she felt ready to go back home. On the final day he hired a bike for the morning. It was old and rickety but she didn't notice this as she sailed down deserted lanes with the hush and rustle of long grass damping down the creaks of the bicycle. Chloe felt good and solitary, alone but not lonely. As she cycled though she noticed a figure entwined in weeds and grass. As she moved the grass and weeds away she could see the form of a little girl captured in bronze. Her pinafore dress was caught in a flutter of wind and her little ankle boots were laced up tight and tied with a bow. The girl was about six years old and held a posy of flowers in her small motionless hands. The statue was streaked with green-grey which showed its age. Below the figure a small plaque stood with the words

Josephine

950 - 1956

Chloe's eyes began to fill up with tears as she realised who Josephine was. She gathered up a small posy of flowers and placed them in front of the statue.

"Here Josephine, from him to you."

When she was back at the hotel she approached Martha the landlady, a small woman in her sixties.

"Martha, who was Josephine?" With a sad tired shake of her head Martha gazed into the middle distance at a point not visible to Chloe.

"Little Josephine Birch, a prettier petal you could not have found. She was always full of joy. She found a boat, but, although we drum it into our kids heads not to play in the water, somehow this boat was just too irresistible. She wanted to follow her daddy to work. Only the boat was found. We searched for days, for months. Her dad, Sam, was distraught. His waking hours became pain, his sleep purgatory, his heart all but died. He left the island and he has never returned."

Chloe was anxious as she neared the land. She couldn't see him but she knew he was there, she knew he was there every day. She felt wretched that she was just one of the many passengers causing him torment for not being Josephine. When the boat had docked, she smiled in his direction but his pale blue eyes were too involved in searching for someone else to have noticed her.

" I'm waiting for Josephine," he said to no-one in particular. She turned her head away and merged, anonymous and useless into the crowd.