First Posting

"Have you checked to see if any of her clothes are missing, or her make-up and toiletries?"

"I don't think so, but I haven't really checked closely."

"I think that you should do that. If those things are still there we might have a problem. Why don't you go and check, and get back to me."

He arrived back half an hour later looking even more worried. "Everything seem to be there."

"I have to ask this, how has your marriage been lately, any friction between you?"

"None to speak of. She has been on at me to do something about young George's behaviour, but there hasn't been any serious disagreements."

"I can understand her concerns about him, I have had similar concerns myself. He does not seem to get it that his behaviour is in any way inappropriate. Take his insistence on pursuing Judy Stevens, despite her telling him on numerous occasions that she is not interested in him."

"Trust you to bring that up, considering your interest in her."

"I admit that Judy and I are close, in fact we are discussing marriage, but that has no effect on my concerns for him on a practical, policing basis. You would do well to follow Cynthia's advice and have stern words with him."

George Brookman's world spiralled out of control. With the imminent closure of 'his' bank, and his personal problems weighing heavily on him, he began to display such irrational behaviour that his staff found it difficult to handle. His Assistant Manager contacted the bank's Head Office and a representative was dispatched to investigate the situation. George was asked to leave the bank, and told that his entitlements would be forwarded to him in due course. The rest of the staff were paid out and left. The closure of the bank was brought forward by two weeks. All account holders were given the option of transferring their accounts to the Foreston Branch or to a different bank of their choice.

George sheeted the blame for his situation on his son, and during the ensuing argument, threats and counter threats were exchanged. Young George packed his bags and left town with a girl who was only months over the age of consent.

George's descent into depression was there for all to see. He stopped shaving and his once perfectly pressed suits were crumpled and looked as if he was sleeping in them (he was), his personal hygiene also suffered.

Some six months after his world collapsed he was conspicuous by his absence. He just wasn't seen around town any more, he hadn't been into the store to buy food for ages, and the pile of delivered newspapers was growing on the front lawn. I went to investigate.

After forcing the front door I found him sprawled on his soiled bed, his skeletal body just barely alive. I called an ambulance and he was taken to hospital some hundred kilometres away.

I checked with his treating doctor a week later. "We are doing all that we can for him, but he just doesn't seem to want to live. He is still on an intravenous drip because he refuses to eat. He has tried on a number of occasions to pull the drip out, so we have had to fix his hands to the bedframe to prevent that. Does he have any relatives who might be able to do something to lift his spirits?"

"He has a son, but I don't know where he is. I'll put the word out and see if I can find him. He also has an ex-wife, I don't think that they are divorced, and I hesitate to ask her for help, given their track record. I can but try."

Young George was easy to find. The young girl that he left town with had returned home pregnant and without him. He was in hospital following a car accident. It seemed that she had become sick of his petulant antics and told that she was leaving him. He took the news badly, and took his anger out on his car, thankfully managing to only injure himself in the resultant meeting of car and power pole.

"Mary, it's Scott Reynolds from Canning Hill, would you have contact details for Cynthia?"

"Hold the line, she's here with me now." There was a pause until Cynthia spoke.

"Hi Scott, am I to assume that this call is of an official nature?"

"Yes. I don't have any right to say this, but I am worried about George."

"It must be something bad for you to contact me."

"Yes it is. George has had something of a major breakdown. He has taken his losses badly, the bank has closed, his friends have deserted him and Young George has had an accident and is in hospital, although he hasn't been told that. His doctor has told me that he has lost the will to live, and they hold little hope of a recovery unless that changes. I don't expect you to want to help him, and I'll understand if you tell me that I've had a hide to call and break this news to you, and, much as I don't think highly of the man, I can't see him in this condition. Could you . .?"

"You know me too well Scott, you know that I will go and see him. I will ask that you come with me, just to make sure that I don't change my mind."

"How soon can you get here?"

"Give me an hour."

She was good to her word and just under an hour later she walked into the police station. "George has discharged himself from hospital and gone home. From what I've been told he is living in absolute squalor. I fear for him."

"Okay, I'm here, let's get this over with."

George refused to open the door when I rang the bell.. "Go away, you've only come here to gloat over me, so you can both piss off, I don't want to speak to you."

Cynthia used her key to open the door. We heard George shuffling down the hall and the bedroom door slammed. "Open up George, we need to talk to you."

"I've got nothing to say to you, either of you."

I opened the door and what I saw made me sick to the stomach, and I'd seen some pretty dreadful stuff in my time as a cop. I had seen photos of the survivors of those German concentration camps. He looked just like those people. "How long has it been since you had something to eat?"

"Fuck off, as if you care."

"I care." Cynthia said.

"Bullshit! You pissed off and left me. Everyone left me." That last bit was little more than a whisper.

"I left because of how you treated me and all the people around you, it was as if none of us existed. I needed for you to experience just what it's like to be ignored. As for Scott, you treated him the same way as you treated every other policeman sent here. You didn't even remember that he used to live here, or what you did to his parents. You were just as guilty of the death of Scott's father as if it was you that ran him off the road. He might not have been meant to hit that tree, but he did and that was a bonus as far as you were concerned. He has told me that he is not going to press charges over that, (news to me) that is if you are to change your ways and re-join this community. So, what is it to be?"

"But they all hate me."

"Yeah, I guess that you could be right."

"I can't face them."

"I've called for an ambulance." I couldn't see him making any rational decision in his present condition, but it would give him food for thought while he recuperates, that is if he chooses to try.

He mumbled something and tried, unsuccessfully, to stand up. He slumped back onto the bed and was still in that position when the paramedics arrived with a stretcher.

"I'll go to see him every day." Cynthia said as the ambulance pulled away from the house. "And I'll arrange for someone to come in and clean this place up."

"Why are you doing this, after all he treated you badly."

"I think, I hope, that this lesson will change him for the better. I'm feeling a little guilty for leaving him, I think that contributed a lot to his current situation."

"I don't know whether I could be that forgiving."

"You could, you're that sort of person. By the way, how are you and Judy getting on? A little bird told me that you're planning to get married."

"Secrets don't last long in this place. Yes we are getting married."

"I also hear that she's pregnant. That wouldn't have anything to do with your decision, would it?"

"Yes and no. We had already decided that we were going to get married before she dropped that news on me, it just moved things up a bit, that's all."

"You picked a good one there."

"Don't I know it? We're both looking forward to this baby."

Despite the best efforts of the medical profession, George made little progress in his recovery. Cynthia stayed with him as long as she could each day, talking softly to him and holding his hand. It was as if his guilt was getting the better of him.

There were lucid moments when he expressed sorrow for the things that he had done, at other times he seemed not to remember anything of his past life.

His life came to an end in the early hours of the morning. His kidneys had been causing concern to the doctors and they were considering dialysis, but his kidneys failure was so rapid that it caught everyone by surprise. Cynthia was greeted by the bad news when she arrived at the hospital for her daily visit. She told me later that she had the feeling that George was prepared for the end, and that when it came she was not surprised, saddened to an extent, but resigned to the news.

George's funeral was well attended. It seemed that the townspeople were making sure that he was really dead. There was one minor drama during the proceedings, young George made an appearance, and he was not a happy person. "You bastards! I hope that you're proud of yourselves. You killed my father and now you're all here gloating over his dead body. I hope that, when this town falls apart in financial ruin, just who kept it all together. And do you know what? I am not going to lift a finger to help you."

I slid across and quietly spoke to him. "George, this is not the time and place for this. Why don't you come back in a day or two, when you have calmed down, and we can discuss your future, and the future of this town in a rational manner? "I'll call you a cab, you're in no condition to drive."

"I'm perfectly capable of driving."

"If you get into your car, I'm afraid that I'm going to have to arrest you. Now will you give me your keys, you can pick them up from the station tomorrow."

He sullenly threw the keys at me and stormed off.

That, unfortunately, was not to be my last contact with George. He chucked a huge hissy fit when he found out that the fortune that he expected to inherit from his father was virtually non-existent. With the loss of the bank and the downturn in his business fortunes, plus some spectacularly risky last ditch investments that were not the solution, in fact the opposite, left the coffers empty.

The remaining property holdings were not a part of his legacy. In a tax minimisation scheme hatched by his dodgy accountant, the titles were transferred to a company set up in Cynthia's name, thus removing them from his property tax liabilities. Earnings from these properties was placed in the company's bank account and Cynthia was able to pay any outgoings from this and still make a profit. While he was affluent, George saw no need to draw from these accounts and, to all intents and purposes, forgot all about them.

When he had hit rock bottom, both mentally and financially, his accountant bailed, taking as much cash as he could lay his hands on.

Young George took on a career as an unsuccessful gambler in an attempt to become rich quickly. I last heard that he had skipped town to avoid a confrontation with the heavies that his gambling creditors had hired to demand monies with menaces.

With George Brookman's death, and his son's departure for places un-known, there were many changes made. The first was that at a town meeting, a decision was made to revert to Canning Hill as the name of the town. The council, for the first time in living memory, did not have a Brookman as Mayor.

My position in this town changed fairly dramatically with a visit from a high ranking Police Officer. "Sergeant Reynolds, you seem to have done yourself out of a job. The decision has been made to close the police station here. We are prepared to offer you the posting of Station Sergeant at the Foreston Station. The current Sergeant is due to retire in a couple of months. The position is yours, should you want it."

"What are my options?" I was thinking about my life in this town. I did not want to leave it, and I knew that Judy wouldn't want to leave. While the daily commute to Foreston was no great hardship for me, the random hours would be too upsetting for her. I had been giving thoughts to resigning from the force. I thought I could run the community garden. The only problem, was that it was an unpaid position, and I didn't know whether I could afford not to have an income, given that Judy was not far from giving birth.

"You have two. You can take over the Foreston Station, or you'll have to transfer back to a city Station. The decision is yours."

"How soon do I have to make the decision?"

"I need to know by this time next week."

"So, no rush then."

I don't know how rumours start in a small town, but within twenty four hours of my options being presented, the whole town knew that I could be leaving. The upshot of this was that it brought me another option to consider. "Scott. I understand that you may have to leave us, is this correct?" Cynthia asked.

"It certainly looks that way, I don't seem to have much choice, it's either the Foreston job or back to the big smoke, neither of which impress me."

"What if you have another choice?"

"What do you have in mind?"

"How would you like to run the General Store?"

"Do you mean run it for you? I guess that I could handle that."

"No, that's not what I mean at all. What I am offering you is to give you the store, sort of me going some way to compensate you for the way George treated your family. The company that bought it from George was one controlled by a family trust, my family's trust. I've had my accountants looking at the price he paid for your father's property and the market valuation at the time. We have made calculations based on the interest that would have accrued from the difference over the years, and come up with a figure that's not too far removed from what we consider the General Store is worth at the moment, not much as it happens, given that business has dropped off dramatically of recent times. I'm sure that, with you running it, business will pick up soon enough."

"That's a tempting offer, but I know nothing about running a business."

"I know of a good manager who can help you out, and she won't cost you much, in fact she'll be only too happy to do it for nothing, at least until you find your feet."

"And who would this generous person be?" I had a pretty good idea what her answer would be.

"She would be me. Let's just say that it's my contribution to keeping you in town."

"I'll, we'll have to discuss this with Judy. She's as much a part of my future as I am."

"Fine by me. Why don't the two of you come to my place for dinner tonight?" I was glad that she had rented a house, I didn't think that either of us wanted to go to the Brookman home, and I was certain that Judy would not.

I have to admit that Cynthia surprised me with the meal that was placed in front of Judy and myself. "Don't look so surprised, I can cook I'll have you know."

"I can see that. I would have thought that George would have had a Housekeeper to do all the cooking."

"But that would have cost money, believe me, in certain areas he was tight as a fish's arsehole. Don't look so shocked, I can swear with the best of them, I'm not some 'Goody Two Shoes' I'll have you know."

After dinner it was time for the three of us to sit down and discuss our future. Judy came up with a surprise proposition. "If you can cook as good as this, I'm looking for someone to look after the Café while I get settled with our son or daughter. I intend to keep him or her close by once I have a routine established, but until then, I would like it if you could run things for me."

"I'd love to do that, but don't you think springing me on your customers might frighten them off?"

"Not after I spread the word that, just because George was a problem for this town, doesn't mean that you were as well. You'd be surprised at how forgiving people can be if they see that a person is making an effort to change."

If you had asked me, not that long ago when I first arrived back in town, whether I could work with a Brookman, I'd have told you that you had to be joking. Times change, and technically I was right, you see an unlikely alliance was formed between myself, Judy, who was now very much my wife, and the mother of my son Rory, and Cynthia Wallace, formerly Cynthia Brookman, nee Wallace.

It was a flexible arrangement, if the Café was busy, which it often was, Cynthia would leave me to look after the general Store while she helped out. If the General Store was busy then either Cynthia or Judy would help out.

You will have gathered from this that I am no longer a policeman. It turned out that my first posting as a Sergeant, would also be my last, and Judy and I could not have been happier at this outcome. Oh, and by the way, we are expecting again, and hoping for a girl this time.