Bridge Over the Atlantic

by Lisa J. Hobman

  The three friends sat by the fireplace with their drinks and chatted. Josie and Brad doing their best to keep the conversation light hearted. Mallory began to enjoy a relaxed feeling brought on by the alcohol she imbibed.

  They had just begun their third round of drinks when someone began to speak over a PA system. They turned to the direction of the voice. Much to their mutual surprise, Greg sat on a stool in front of a mic stand, clutching an acoustic guitar.

  “Ahem…evening all,” he coughed. “Good to see you. Ahh…for those of you who haven’t had the pleasure of being served intoxicating liquor by my good self…I’d better introduce myself, eh?” He fidgeted nervously again. “My name is Greg McBradden and I’m the local handyman, bartender and all round grumpy arse.” He looked directly at Mallory who cringed and felt rather guilty considering he’d come to her rescue on the beach so readily. He laughed to himself at her obvious recoiling. “Anyways, I’m going to do my best to add ‘entertainer’ to my list of talents. Thanks to Stella, the owner here, she seems to have a disliking for all you locals as she’s agreed to let me sing to you.” The pub customers roared with laughter; some heckled and some booed.

  Lifting his guitar aloft he went on, “Anyways…I’d like to introduce you to Rhiannon…my guitar…named after a Fleetwood Mac song that got me into playing in the first place…so you can blame them if you don’t like ma playing.” A rumble of laughter travelled the room. “She has just been repaired at the guitar hospital…also known as a music shop for you heathens…so she sounds grand…If any of you’s get up and leave, don’t forget I know where most of you live.” Greg chuckled.

  “Right, well, seeing as this is my first night I’m not going to scare you away with my own compositions. This first one, you should all know, but don’t bloody sing along. I hate that,” he laughed. “It’s a little number that I like to call ‘Trouble’…because…erm, that’s its name.” Another rumble of laughter. “It’s by a guy called Ray LaMontagne and I’d like anyone who knows him or follows him on Twitter to tell him I’m sorry.” The customers laughed again.

  Greg began to strum the opening chords and closed his eyes as he did so. Mallory, Brad and Josie exchanged looks which pretty much meant Crikey! I should cocoa! They laughed together at their mutual shock. An amazed silence blanketed the room as everyone listened, mesmerised by the voice of this erstwhile loner who had appeared to have come out of his shell right before their very eyes. He named his guitar? Bit odd…It did, however, explain who Rhiannon actually was. Mallory pondered, letting the bizarre nugget of information sink in.

  Song after song had everyone swaying and, contrary to Greg’s insistence, singing along. It was wonderful to hear someone with such a soulful voice doing justice to some of the best songs from last decade.

  Mallory and her friends drank and drank. But Mallory, feeling relaxed, was surprisingly sober. She sang along and felt as if all her sorrows had melted away for that brief period of time. Without giving his next song any introduction, Greg took a quick gulp of his beer and began to play a series of singular notes. Shock gripped Mallory and she felt frozen to the spot. Her heart began to pound and she felt the minimal colour she currently had drain from her face as Greg began to sing. Mallory’s eyes widened as her friends exchanged worried looks.

  “Oh shit, Brad, it’s bloody ‘Chasing Cars’!” Josie growled at her boyfriend whose mouth had just fallen open in realisation.

  Before she could stop herself, and before Greg pierced her heart with the chorus, Mallory rose and dodging the people at the tables nearest to her, bolted for the exit, closely followed by Josie and Brad.

  Mallory burst into the evening air and gulped as if she had just come to the surface of a very deep lake. She was struggling to breathe. Her heart was making its most earnest attempts to escape its bony cage as Mallory ran. She collapsed to her knees in the middle of the bridge where she began to sob uncontrollably. When Josie and Brad reached her, Josie dropped to her side and encircled her in her arms.

  “He’s gone, Josie!” Mallory sobbed, “he’s gone and I can’t bear it. I don’t know what to do. I’ll never hold him again.” Her body convulsed as emotion wracked her, “he’s gone.” Brad too crouched to join the girls and stroked Mallory’s hair. The same sorry words fell, over and over, from her lips, as if she was determined to make them sink in. “He’s gone…he’s gone and he’s never coming back.”

  Carefully Brad lifted Mallory into his arms and the friends made their way back to the cottage. Eventually, Mallory’s sobs subsided and Brad carried her upstairs to her bedroom under the concerned gaze of Renee who stood, hands clasped over her mouth and tears caressing her cheeks. Josie helped her friend undress and tucked her into bed. She cried herself to sleep, this time with gentle, pain filled silent tears.

  ~~~~~

  Mallory awoke and glanced over at her clock; ten forty-five. She sat and felt the most horrendous pounding in her head, which forced her to lie back down. Sunlight streamed in through the curtains. The same silly, tissue thin, curtains that she and Sam had endured at the cottage in Yorkshire. They never got around to buying new ones. It had been on their ‘to do’ list. She heard a knock at the front door and managed to scramble over to peek out of her room to see who it was. She had no intention of answering it herself. Josie had opened the door, “Oh, hi. What are you doing here?”

  On hearing Josie’s somewhat hostile greeting Mallory cranked her neck so that she could see who it was without being seen herself. Greg stood there looking like a rabbit in headlights.

  “I came to check up on Mallory.” He fiddled with his car keys as he spoke, “I saw her run out last night and was worried she was sick or something.” He ran his hand through his hair.

  “Oh, yes, of course. Thanks.” Josie took a deep breath and shifted from one foot to the other. “You played ‘Chasing Cars’. That was the song that was played at her engagement. It meant a lot to her and Sam…It was their song.”

  Greg’s eyes widened and he inhaled sharply. He looked horrified. “Oh my God. No fuckin’ wonder she ran out.” He covered his face with one hand and blew out a huge breath, as if letting all the air from his lungs escape. “Please…fuck, oh I’m sorry to swear, but fuck. Please tell her I’m so, so sorry. Fuck. What a fucking idiot!”

  “Hey, Greg, you weren’t to know. Honestly don’t beat yourself up, eh?” Josie was trying to reassure the broad, six foot plus man who had almost visibly shrunk away to nothing in front of her.

  “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Oh, God sorry, my language.” Upstairs Mallory had to stifle a giggle at his reaction. She couldn’t help it. Bless him.

  “Don’t worry, mate, Josie has said much worse.” Mallory heard Brad shout from somewhere toward the kitchen. Hmm, he has a point.

  “Every time I see that girl I seem to put ma fuckin’ size ten in my mouth.” Greg shook his head. “I’m going to go before I do any more damage to the poor wee girl. As if she hasn’t been through enough, eh?” He turned to go, a look of despair played over his features. “Seriously, please tell her I’m so sorry. I’ll be keepin’ out her way I reckon.” Mallory’s heart sank a little at his words. Poor Greg. It wasn’t his fault.

  “That won’t be necessary, Greg, honestly. You weren’t to know. You’re not to blame.” Mallory was glad that Josie did her best to try and relieve his anguish but he turned and walked away, muttering expletives at himself as he went.

  Sunday brought the sad reality of goodbyes. Renee had to fly back to Canada to be with her family. She was missing her new little grandson. They stood at the taxi which had pulled up and been loaded with her bags. Renee hugged Mallory as if she never wanted to let go.

  “Now you listen, young lady,” Renee choked back tears, “you had something so special with my son. He adored you and that makes you family. You must get on a plane and come to stay soon, okay?” Mallory nodded, wiping away her own tears.

  Renee placed her hands on Mallory’s shoulders. “Please don’t sit home fe
eling sad though, honey, you are young and you must not let this terrible grief become who you are. Sam would hate for you to sit around looking so sad. He always said what a beautiful smile you have and he was right, darling. You and I know that Sam would have wanted you to make the most of this new adventure here in Scotland. He was so excited about being here.” She kissed Mallory and cupped her cheek.

  Renee slid into the back seat of the car and closed the door. She dabbed at her face with a lace handkerchief and rolled down the window. “Promise you will visit soon?”

  “I promise, Renee.” The car pulled away and Mallory raised her hand to wave. Josie slid her arm around her shoulder and hugged her as they turned to walk back inside.

  During the week that followed, Brad and Josie helped Mallory to finish unpacking and they even managed to convince Mallory to put her photographs out on display. That particular task had been difficult. But they had all laughed at the one showing the four of them at a 1970’s fancy dress bash last New Year. Sam had sported an afro wig, long moustache and fake chest hair. His flares were a little too snug and he had spent the whole evening re-adjusting himself as the others made fun. Brad had been a hippy dude with long hair and round glasses. He’d had to defend his choice of outfit, insisting it was a kaftan and not a dress. It felt good to laugh.

  After they had given all the framed pictures a new home Josie had made coffee whilst Brad went out to buy beer for that evening.

  Josie sat next to her and nudged her shoulder gently. “So, honey bun. What do you think you will do now?” She inquired.

  “About what?”

  “Well, will you sell up and come home to Yorkshire? Will you stay here?”

  “Oh, Josie I honestly don’t know,” Mallory sighed. “It’s a bit too soon to be thinking about that. Sam wanted to be here and so I feel I should stay. But I do worry that I’ll be lonely. Back in Yorkshire I have you, Brad, the shop…” She hoped Josie realised the weight of such a decision and that it was not a decision she could attempt to influence.

  As if reading Mallory’s mind Josie said, “you have to do what’s right for you, babe. Never mind us. You know you’ll still see us. You can’t get shut of us that easily you know.” Josie laughed. “Brad and I are going to get home tomorrow. Maybe you need some time to adjust. You can’t really do that until we are out of your way.”

  “I don’t know. Maybe you’re right. I wish you didn’t have to go.”

  “Me too, Mally, but the shop won’t re-open itself. We all need to get back into a normal routine. Brad has had a few calls asking when he is free to do a kitchen for that family in Adel that he worked for before and he really should take the work.”

  The shop in Leeds had been displaying a ‘Closed until further notice due to bereavement’ sign for over three weeks and Brad had dropped everything to be with his girlfriend and her best friend. He was quite a guy, Mallory thought. But they were right. The time had come for Mallory to move onward. It was going to be the most difficult time of her life, apart from the death of Sam, but she needed to move on.

  Two weeks into May, Brad and Josie packed up their belongings into Brad’s van. It was time for another goodbye. Mallory had said far too many of them recently. They weren’t getting any easier. She tried hard not to give in to her emotions but failed miserably, quite literally.

  “Oh don’t cry, babe.” Josie clung onto her friend. “We’ll come up in a few weeks for your birthday! It’s the big three-oh! We’ll take you out if you like. Or we could stay in, whatever you want. Let’s see how you feel, eh?” Josie kissed Mallory and climbed into the passenger seat before she too erupted. Brad hugged Mallory.

  “Take care of you, Mal, right?” He kissed the top of her head.

  “Thank you both for everything. I really don’t know what I would have done without you. I’ll miss you.”

  “That’s what friends are for, Mally,” Josie said through her open van window. Brad climbed into the van and they drove away. Josie hung out of the car waving frantically until they were out of sight.

  Mallory walked back into the eerie silence of the house. She looked around the room at her old brown leather sofa that had seen better days, her burgundy rug complete with curled up dog, the solid oak sideboard displaying photo memories, the widescreen TV that Sam had insisted they needed, the beautiful artwork on the walls, some that Mallory had before Sam and some that they had bought on visits to Scotland together. And there above the beautiful inglenook fireplace, on the mantle sat the urn.

  “Oh Sam, what do I do now?” She touched the cold surface of the container. “I feel a little lost. I miss you so much. I can’t imagine the rest of my life without you. Why did this have to happen to you?” She wiped away a tear as Ruby jumped up, stretching her little fuzzy body along Mallory’s thigh.

  “Come on Ruby-doo, let’s go get some fresh air eh? Want to go for a walk?” She picked up the little dog and nuzzled her spikey fur. Ruby wagged her little stumpy tail in excitement at her second favourite word; the first favourite being dinner.

  Mallory clipped on Ruby’s lead, grabbed her fleece and set off out into the afternoon sunshine. It felt surprisingly warm compared to the chill of recent weeks. The pair strolled along stopping at the same place she always did when crossing the bridge. She loved the view and the memories that the place evoked, no matter how painful. As they continued on a Land Rover pulled up alongside them and stopped.

  “Hey, Mallory,” Greg shouted through the lowered window. “How are you doing?”

  “Oh hi, Greg. I’m okay, I think. Having my moments.” She smiled.

  Greg climbed out of the vehicle and came round to where she stood. “Look, I wanted to apologise for that night in the pub.” He ran his hand through his hair. “If I’d have known…”

  “Look, don’t worry, you had no clue. How could you have? I’d had quite a bit to drink too which I don’t think helped. Really, please don’t worry.” She smiled trying her best to reassure him.

  “I just felt so bad. I came round the day after.”

  “Yes, Josie said so. You don’t need to worry.”

  “Aye, but I just feel that every time I speak to you I put my foot in it.”

  Mallory smiled kindly. “Well, if it’s any consolation, up to that point in the evening I thought you were really good,” she enthused.

  Greg blushed; he actually blushed! Mallory found it quite amusing that this surly, sky scraper of a man could be a little shy about his talent.

  “Really? Thanks. I’m hoping to do it again soon. You should come along. Are there any other songs I should avoid?” he asked cautiously.

  “No, just that one.”

  “Okay, noted. Keep a look out for the blackboard at the pub…well that is when I’ve made one. Right, well, I’d better go. I’m off to fix a leaky tap at Colin’s. He tried to do it, but I think it’s something a bit more serious than he thought.” He made back to the car and climbed in. “I’m glad you’re okay...well, as okay as you can be, eh?”

  He fastened his seatbelt and looked back to where Mallory still stood. “Anyway, you should come up to the pub for some food sometime. Stella makes the best steak pie and you’ve lost too much weight since you moved here, you’re looking like you could use a good meal.” He clamped a hand over his mouth as soon as the words had fallen out. “Fuck. I really should just not talk to you, eh?” He shook his head as if he was annoyed with himself and drove away quickly without another word.

  Mallory frowned and looked down at her disappearing frame. Maybe he was right? She shook her head in disbelief, she and Ruby continued on their stroll.

  Chapter Four

  The next day, Mallory decided to get stuck into organising her workshop. Hearing Greg talk about making a blackboard had given her the desire to get stuck into making things. It’ll be a good way to take my mind off things.

  She went upstairs into her room to hunt out her scruffy old denim dungarees. They were torn in places and covered in an array of colou
red paint splats, but they were what she always wore when she was creating and they were so comfy. She pulled them on and to her horror they were enormous. She walked over to the full length mirror in the corner and looked at her figure. She remembered how Sam used to look at her and caress her curves. They were disappearing fast. Her vivid blue eyes looked larger. She vowed to take Greg’s suggestion seriously and would endeavour to try Stella’s steak pie someday soon. She scraped her long, wavy, chocolate brown hair into a high pony tail and doubled the band over so that it sat in a knot atop her head.

  Armed with a CD player, a bunch of discs, a bucket of soapy water and wearing an old scarf threaded through the belt loops of her scruffy old denim dungarees to stop them from falling off, she walked up the uneven path to the little stone building at the top of the garden.

  She pushed open the rickety old wooden door and flicked on the light. There was a film of dust over all of the work surfaces and enough cobwebs and creepy crawlies to make Tim Burton salivate. It really was like the set of a horror movie; she half expected Frankenstein or some other such monster to come crawling out of the woodwork. It was clear that the place hadn’t been used in earnest for years and Mallory decided that was about to change. She set to, cleaning and sweeping. It felt cathartic to be doing something physical. Maybe tonight I’ll sleep.

  She placed the CD player near the nearest socket and selected ‘Jagged Little Pill’ by Alanis Morissette. Nothing like a bit of Alanis to belt out to whilst I’m cleaning, she mused. The old sink in the corner had a rusty old tap which wouldn’t even turn. So after emptying the filthy, dank water from her bucket she went back into the house to refill it. Ruby followed her everywhere like a little four legged shadow.