Red Balloons

She was beautiful, there was no doubt about it and when she’d raised her glass to him, his heart
had nearly burst. They’d met on a summer night, on the beach in Southsea. I know, not exactly
that romantic, crunching on a pebbled beach not quite the same as the feel of the sand between
your toes. Still, they hadn’t cared, they only had eyes for each other.
How quickly things can change. Now that summer was over, it seemed to have slipped
away taking the romance along with it. There has to be more to a relationship, he thought, than a
tumble on the shingle. Sitting in front of the telly on a stormy winter night is never the same, when
he realised that his love of football meant nothing to her and her desire to go to the theatre just left
him cold.
Her artistic friends sneered at him whilst his mates down the pub, he knew, pissed her off
so much – the way they talked, he’d watched her shudder at every other word beginning with an F,
their conversation obviously jarring against her sensitivities.
He wondered what they’d ever seen in each other, now the nights were dark and the days
so short. He found himself drawn again to the sea front, trying in vain to grasp back what it was
they’d had. There he was, looking out to the Island, the rain dripping down his neck. Where do
you go from here? he wondered.
Oh, it was good in the beginning, but now that she was making all those demands on him,
on his time, asking for money in that whining voice of hers. What did the woman need anyway?
He’d given her everything she’d asked for and she had been so pliable at first, allowing him to do
anything to her that he wanted. She’d liked it! Had laughed and smiled at him in that beguiling
way she did.
It was the rise and fall of the sea that had lulled him into this sense of loving someone
again, had made him lower his guard and now he knew that the sea had to be the answer to set
him free again.

He began his plan.
His favourite place, the funfair, was dark and shuttered against the winter storms but he still
loved to walk there, especially at night. He didn’t even need to break into the boarded area as he
still had the key they’d given him back in the summer. He was familiar with every part of the
grounds, empty now of everything but memories, shingle and a dried up starfish the last high tide
had washed over the breakwaters.
He stood for a moment under the Wild Mouse, its frame soaring high into the night sky, it’s
beams creaking against the elements. Just looking up made him feel so light and full of power. He
knew every little part of this place and all that was in it. The summer months spent working here,
maintaining the rides was coming to fruition at last. It didn’t take him long to prepare what he’d
planned and soon he was hurrying along to the pier where he’d agreed to meet her for her
Valentine’s surprise.

She sat at the bar. He swallowed his leaping heart.
‘Another new dress,’ he said and smiled into her eyes. ‘You look beautiful.’
She raised her glass to him, the blood red of the wine matching the colour of her dress.
‘Thank you,’ she leaned towards him and whispered, ‘Happy Valentine’s Day. Are you having a
drink?’
‘Maybe later. But first, I’ve planned a surprise.’
Her stiletto heeled shoes weren’t really the thing to wear for walking along the promenade,
and she complained all the way.
‘Don’t worry, we’re nearly there and it will be worth it.’ He held her close to him as they
stumbled along.
As they turned into the fairground he could feel her shivering next to him but as soon as
he’d opened the door into the enclosure, she began laughing. Twenty, forty, fifty red balloons were
floating around the Wild Mouse, too many to count.
‘You’re crazy!’ she cried into the night as she turned to kiss him on the lips. ‘You’ve done
this for me? Are we going on the ride?’
‘Just you,’ he said. ‘You know I hate heights, but I wanted to do something that you would
appreciate more than anything, and I know you will love this.’
He watched as she climbed aboard, he checked that the seat belt was securely in place,
then went into the box to start the motor. Slowly, the car moved off. He climbed down and his
eyes followed the path of the car carrying his love, labouring up to the top of the ride, turn the
corner at the summit and listened to her screams as it sped down the first descent. Watched as it
climbed again, heard the creaking of the wheels on the track, saw it pick up speed on the straight
at it’s highest point and smiled as he heard her screams again as the car hit the bend and carried
on flying into the night above the sea.
He didn’t even hear the splash. The night was too stormy.