“You love your garden,” she said. “I'll bring you a coffee out later. I can prepare vegetables for our evening meal at my leisure, without your fussing under my feet.”
George laughed. “Stop your moaning, woman. I'll leave you in peace.” Although he would rather have remained close at hand, he knew Grace would have complained at his presence. She wanted to be left alone. So George retired to his garden and did a bit of weeding in preparation for spring flowers.
After an hour or so, George took a break from his gardening and sat down on a bench. He was beginning to feel a bit thirsty, and glanced at his watch, hoping Grace would appear soon with the drink she had promised. There was no sign, however, so eventually George returned to his garden.
Anxious glances at his watch over the following half an hour and still no sign of Grace finally told him that something was wrong. He dropped his tools and hurried back to the house as fast as his aged legs allowed him.
Just as he reached the door, however, George heard an unnatural thud. It frightened him; a shudder ran through his body and his legs appeared to turn to jelly.
“Grace!” he cried, his voice cracked and anxious.
There was no reply, however, and somehow George made it into the house and went in search of his wife.
“Gracie!” he called, his concern was growing. “Where are you, my love?”
Upon hearing a strange muffled sound that seemed to be coming from the kitchen, George went to investigate. Sprawled across the floor, barely conscious and quite obviously unable to get up, lay Grace.
“George, help me.” she gasped.