On another day, relaxing at a pleasant beach outing, Tim was playing
around the rocks and throwing stones to kill crabs. Don did not appreciate his
abusive act and began throwing stones at him, ordering him to stop or he would
keep throwing stones. The age difference between them caused Tim irritation at
the best of times but he took great offence to being stoned, in retaliation
with a degree of rage he chased Don along the beach throwing sticks and
anything else he could use as a missile. Don sprinted as hard as his small legs
would alternate until he reached sight of his mother. Her instincts knew
trouble was brewing and shouted aloud at both to behave, she was too late a
large seashell hit Don in the back of the head; it drew blood, but his screams
were much worse than the injury.
“What are you doing?” She
bellowed. “Come here Tim this instant!” Tim complained from afar so as not to
get a hiding;
“Don’s throwing stones at
me.” Safely in his mother’s arms getting first aid Don whimpered;
“He was killing things.”
“What do you mean he was
killing things,” she asked inquisitively.
“He was killing crabs,”
cried Don.
“Oh Don,” she said with a
sigh, “you have to grow up. Leave Tim alone and don’t ever throw stones at
people again. Go away and play nicely.” She checked his head; “It’s just a
scratch, go and play,” she ruled while pushing him off her lap. When that
little scuffle was sorted, Ben and Ted, who during the fracas did not move
anyway, stayed lazing about on the sand discussing their dreams whilst Rene and
Peg set the picnic blanket with home-made cordial, baked beans sandwiches and
tasty treats. They called out to all the kids to come for food. Most sat
happily and replenished the energy lost from running and bellyaching, but not
Don, he decided he was still peeved with the prior dispute regarding Tim and
himself and tormented him by making snorting noises in close proximity to his
face, and provoked him further by prodding his leg with his fingers. Tim pushed
Don’s face away with the palm of his hand, in anger Don latched his teeth into
the flesh of his wrist and gnawed firmly. Don’s father was quick to react with
a few mighty slaps around his thigh and bum. Don bellowed loudly, not only
because of the pain but because his feelings were hurt and his brother won the
battle without chastisement. He was told to be quiet and never, ever, bite
again. Ted made him sit quietly, eat his lunch and threatened another smack
would be forthcoming if he did not behave; silent he was.
The afternoon clouds made unwelcome the glow of full sun and gave
warning of a storm appearing imminent. Zoe was the first to feel the chill and
walked to uncle Ben’s ‘van’ to change into warmer clothes. The back of the
‘van’ had two doors which opened outwards for easy access and allowed for room
and privacy when closed. She completed her change from scanty swimwear into
shorts and a blouse, on exit from the ‘van’ she caught one foot in the jumble
and stumbled head first onto the ground. On the way down she extended her arms
with her palms smashing into the gravel to break the fall and screamed an
agonizing pain as she made contact with the rough surface. Ted was alarmed and
startled by her screams and rushed to her aid. Being the first on site he tried
to calm her, as others arrived and huddled around they offered various
appraisals of the injury. She could not move one arm and was in immense agony
with stone bruises and cuts on her hands. Ted asserted his authority and
ordered the immediate packing of the cars. He sat her down and made her as
comfortable as he could until those travelling with him were in the vehicle,
then he took her to hospital. She was diagnosed with a fractured shoulder and
admitted for two nights.
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