Bridge Over the Atlantic

by Lisa J. Hobman

  “The tattoo…is that for Mairi?” Mallory asked carefully, not really knowing if she should.

  “Aye. K2; the wretched place. The barbed wire represents the pain that place caused me. It’s there as a reminder that you have to be careful what you wish for.”

  She understood; completely.

  “I’m so sorry, Greg. I’m sorry for being so hard on you. I do understand.” She smiled at her unlikely kindred spirit. There was a long pause before she went on, “I dreamt about Sam last night. It was so real. He spoke to me about my fears around staying here. I told him I wanted to go back to Yorkshire, but in my dream he said I should stay.” Her own eyes began to blur with tears again as she recalled how lifelike the vision of Sam had been.

  Greg’s eyes widened. “Really? Wow. I bet it was hard to wake up from that dream, eh?”

  “So, so hard. I keep expecting to see him standing on the bridge; or for him to come through the door and apologise for being late.”

  “Aye, I know what you mean. Every time I see a girl with long red hair I want to rush up and grab her to see if its Mairi…then I realise it can’t be.” He thought for a moment, “So you’ve been thinking about leaving, eh?” He seemed surprised.

  “To be honest I just don’t know what to do. I have friends back in Yorkshire. I have my shop…but this is where Sam wanted us to be. This is where we wanted to be together. I think I feel closer to him here than I would in Yorkshire; even though I met him there.”

  “I get that. Every so often I take off up to The Buckle, where I met Mairi. There’s a turn off the main road that leads to Glen Etiv. I usually park in the little lay-bay just past the bridge. A bit further up there’s this little rock where I like to sit. There’s an amazing view of the Buckle from there. I like to wait for the sunrise. I just sit there looking at the changing colours of the dawn. I usually take my sleeping bag and sleep under the bridge for a couple of nights. I feel her there, you know?”

  Mallory nodded.

  Greg fiddled with his hat looking lost in his thoughts. “You don’t need to feel lonely here you know.” Greg informed her after a few minutes of a more comfortable silence. “People around here are great. They’re warm, friendly people. From what I’ve heard, people have nice things to say about you. It’s funny you know, some people can move here and be here for years and never fit in. Not you, though. People love you already.” He sat upright snapping to look at her. There was a glint in his eyes that she hadn’t witnessed before, “Hey, you know what you should do?”

  Mallory was sceptical about what was coming next. “Hmmm, you seem rather excited and that worries me.” She squinted at him suspiciously.

  “A way to meet people. Stella is looking for an extra bartender for the evening. I could put a word in for you.” He suggested.

  Mallory thought about it for a moment. Actually it’d give her something to focus on; evenings were going to be difficult.

  “But I have no clue how to pull a pint and I can’t add up in my head.” Panic started to take over when she realised she was actually considering this.

  “Aye, well I can train you to pull pints and we have an electronic cash register you know. We don’t live in the dark ages up here.”

  “Okay, well, have a word with her then. I could come in for a trial to see if I like it and if Stella likes me.”

  “Aye, well Stella employs me don’t forget, so being likeable can’t be one of the requirements.” Greg laughed and Mallory joined in, thinking his self-deprecation was kind of sweet.

  Chapter Five

  They sailed back to shore both feeling as if the air had been cleared between them. They had come to a mutual understanding. Mallory really felt for Greg. His emotions were still raw which wasn’t surprising considering it was less than a year since Mairi had been declared dead. Although it had been a horrible experience, Mallory had the chance to cremate Sam; there had been some sense of closure for her. Greg hadn’t had anything like that. Nine months had passed for this poor man since he had lost his love and there were still unanswered questions. He had no peace. She admired the immense strength of his character and silently forgave him for his attitude on their first encounter and those that had occurred since.

  As they climbed off the boat and back onto terra firma Mallory broke the ponderous silence that had fallen between them once again. “What are you up to this afternoon then? More leaking sinks to repair?” She smiled warmly at him, feeling more at ease.

  “Nah…I’m away to pick up Angus and I think we might go for a long walk.”

  Mallory scrunched her nose feeling puzzled. “Angus?”

  “Aye, I don’t bring him on the boat too often. He can get sea sick and sometimes he bothers the customers.” Greg informed her.

  Angus hadn’t been mentioned before. “Is Angus your son?” she asked hoping she wasn’t prying.

  Greg threw his head back and guffawed loudly.

  “What’s funny?” Mallory smiled but wasn’t sure why.

  Greg shook his head, his laughter still erupting. “My son…actually, he is rather spoiled so I suppose in a way he is.” He glanced up at her. “He’s my dog. Stella looks after him sometimes when I’m out on the boat.”

  Heat rose in her cheeks. “Ah right.” She couldn’t help but laugh now at her earlier thought. “What type of dog is he?” Mallory had always loved dogs.

  “He is a Lab-satian.”

  “A what?” That’s a new one on me.

  “Labrador Alsatian cross breed. He’s bloody huge, greedy and daft as a brush.” He smiled fondly.

  “Oh lovely. I’d love to meet him sometime. I can’t believe you have a sea-sick dog.” The thought made her giggle.

  “Aye, I wasn’t too impressed the first time I took him out I can tell you.” They walked toward his Landy. Greg agreed to speak to Stella that evening and let her know about the job “See you tomorrow.” He waved and drove away.

  “Bye for now!” she shouted after him. She and Ruby turned to head for home. It was almost time for dinner. Mallory felt genuinely hungry for the first time in weeks. As they walked she replayed their conversations in her mind. Greg had opened up so much more and she appreciated his honesty.

  She knew that there was also a tale to be heard about why his marriage had ended, but that would wait. She felt she had found a kindred spirit in Greg; someone who understood and felt her pain. Maybe they could help each other to come through their grief. Maybe, just maybe they could be friends…

  She walked through her front door and glanced around. I do like this place, maybe I should give it a try? The ashes still sat in their plain container on the mantle in the lounge. She knew that a decision would have to be made soon as she couldn’t be one of those people who hung onto to something like that. Worse still she didn’t want to become one of those people who talked to the urn and its contents. Now that’s the type of thing Sam would have taken the mickey out of for sure.

  Mallory made herself a chicken stir fry and noodles and poured herself a glass of wine. After she had eaten she watched the first part of a movie on TV, but kept dozing off and so she decided to go to bed. It was only ten o’clock, but she felt exhausted. It had been quite a day.

  She was awakened by someone pounding on the front door. She sat bolt upright and looked at the clock. Wow, she must have been tired–it was nearly half past ten in the morning. She dashed out of bed and down to the front door; she rubbed her bleary eyes and opened it.

  “I was beginning to think you’d done a moonlight flit.” Greg stood there, worried expression on his face, tool kit in hand, excitable dog by his side.

  “Sorry, I must have slept really deeply. I’ve only just woken up.” She yawned. Good grief, once again I look a sight when Greg calls round. He must think I live in my jim jams.

  Greg looked her up and down and smirked but didn’t say anything. He was wearing a T-shirt with an image of some kind of rabid wolf and the words ‘Faith No More’ emblazoned over the top of the imag
e. She wasn’t a fan. He had an interesting array of T-shirts, she mused. She stepped aside and gestured for him to come in.

  “I brought Angus, is that okay? You said you’d like to meet him.” Mallory nodded as Ruby came up to greet the new canine visitor. The two dogs sniffed each other inquisitively, their noses stuck up each-others rear end. Greg pointed at the two dogs. “I hope you don’t expect me to greet you like that.”

  Mallory burst out laughing. “No, a simple hello will suffice.” She bent to say hello to Angus who slobbered all over her face.

  Greg laughed. “I’ll not do that either, I promise.”

  Mallory wiped her face on the back of her sleeve. “Thank goodness!” she retorted.

  Greg headed straight through to the kitchen. “Sit yoursel’ down, I’ll make us a coffee.” Mallory couldn’t be bothered to argue, so she sat. “I got that new tap sorted. I just need to fit it and then you’re away.” He called over the increasing noise of the kettle.

  “Great.” She yawned and stretched. She felt like she had run a marathon.

  Greg came through to the lounge with two steaming mugs. Just what the doctor ordered, she thought.

  “So, I spoke to Stella last night.” Greg grinned; she guessed this meant she had a new job. “She says you’re very welcome to come and give it a go. See what you think. What do you reckon, eh?”

  She pursed her lips. “Oh…great, yes, thanks.”

  Greg waved an arm at her. “No, no, calm down with your mad enthusiasm you’ll do yourself an injury.” Sarcastic sod.

  Feeling a stab of guilt Mallory shook her head, “Sorry. I just…I’ve had second thoughts…I’m not sure I’m ready…it’s only been a few weeks, Greg.”

  “Hey, no one knows better than I do about this shit. And I say, grab the bull by the horns and get out and meet people.”

  She knew he was right. Life would go on; she didn’t know how, but go on it must.

  “Anyways, I said you’d be there tonight at about six so I can show you the ropes, eh?”

  “Okay.” She cringed. “I’ll be there.”

  They finished their coffee, making small talk about the weather, things on the news and the fact that her friends were going to come up for a visit in June for her birthday. Greg latched onto the last bit with enthusiasm.

  “So, am I right in thinking you’ll be the big three-oh this time, eh?” He grinned.

  Mallory gaped open mouthed. “How do you know?” Are there no secrets around here?

  “Remember the other night when you told me off for worrying about your eating habits?”

  She nodded sheepishly.

  “You said then, and I quote ‘I am a twenty nine year old woman’ I don’t forget stuff. I have a mind full of useless information.” He laughed.

  “Don’t remind me. I feel old.” She rubbed her face and her shoulders hunched.

  “Ah, rubbish. You’re a wee bairn.” He shrugged off her comment. “Wait ‘til you’re my age then you’ll feel old.”

  “What age is that then?” She had wondered this since she met him. She reckoned he was one of the people who hid their age well…but just how well?

  “Guess.” He challenged her with a glint in his eye.

  “I may offend you,” she warned.

  “Na. I don’t offend that easily. Age is just a number.”

  “Okay...you asked for it…” She pretended to ponder for a moment. “…erm…fifty five?” she teased.

  A look of horror spread across his face and he sat open mouthed.

  “Ahhh you said you wouldn’t get offended! Age is just a number you said!” She punched him playfully on the arm.

  “You cheeky wee mare.” He laughed. “Go on, seriously, how old would you say I am?”

  “Seriously? About thirty four…maybe thirty five?” It was genuinely what she thought.

  His chest puffed out. “Na. I’m thirty eight next birthday.” He seemed proud of the fact. “I just look bloody good for my age.” He laughed again.

  So that explains why he talked about me as his ‘little sister’ the other night.

  “Yes, it’s your modesty I admire the most.” She mocked sarcastically. He really didn’t look thirty seven though.

  He made a face at her. “Right, I’m off to get this tap sorted. I need that chalkboard making and if it’s the sink holding you back, I will make sure it doesn’t stand in your way.”

  Greg put his empty cup in the sink and headed straight for the workshop. Just like last time, she ran upstairs, showered, dressed in leggings that she had found in her ‘slim’ clothes and a long sleeved blue tee. With the stress of the move and then losing Sam she figured she had lost just over fourteen pounds. Not good.

  She strolled up to the workshop with more coffee and got out the bits and pieces she needed to start on Greg’s board. She decided she was going to paint a top section in the same blue as the pub door and then write ‘Greg McBradden Playing Live Here:’ The bottom part would be chalkboard so he could write the dates on. She found a piece of wood in amongst her off cuts that would be the perfect size. She set to undercoating the board. They both worked in silence apart from the CD player, this time belting out a little Pearl Jam. Greg sang along.

  Once the tap was finished it was around lunch time. He showed her that the tap was working and she was over the moon.

  “Right, I’ll be off then. Think I’ll give the boat another try today. There seemed to be a few tourists around and I think the rental cottage just up from the shop has a large family staying, so fingers crossed.” She waved him off at the front door and got back to work on the board.

  At five that night she showered again, to rid herself of the paint splats. She was very pleased with the job she had done on the board and was happy that the weather had been warm enough to enable it to dry and be completed all in the day. It was ready to take with her when she went over to the pub.

  She rummaged through her ‘slim’ clothes again looking for something suitable for her first night working in the pub. She found a pair of black trousers and a fitted, v-necked, black and grey top with a paisley pattern. She straightened her long tresses and applied make-up. When she looked at herself in her full length mirror she actually liked what she saw for the first time in ages. She didn’t look quite so pale and her skin seemed to be settling into to its new shape so she didn’t look quite as drawn as she had been.

  She opted for contacts, pulled on her black jacket, picked up the brown paper wrapped board and set out for the pub leaving Ruby curled up in her favourite spot in front of the fireplace.

  Her nerves were shredded by the time she had walked the few hundred yards to the pub. Stella greeted her warmly. She was such a lovely bubbly woman. She put Mallory at ease straight away.

  “I’ll leave you in the capable hands of Greg then. It’s my night off and I really feel like putting my feet up.” Stella lifted up the bar to allow Mallory through. She hung her coat in the back and took the package back through to Greg who was chatting to Ron at the bar.

  A huge grin spread across Greg’s face. “Is that what I think it is?” he asked.

  “Hmmm, depends what you think it is.” She toyed with him.

  “I think it’s my chalkboard,” he said hopefully.

  “Then in that case you would be correct.” She handed him the package and he ripped off the paper like a kid on Christmas morning. She laughed at his enthusiasm.

  He held the board at arms-length. He didn’t speak. His grin was gone. Oh great, he thinks it’s rubbish. Mallory worried to herself.

  Greg shook his head as a huge grin returned to his face. “Mallory, Mallory, Mallory…it’s bloody brilliant!” Phew! Mallory silently breathed a sigh of relief. “Bloody brilliant!” He repeated, “I love it!” He turned it to show Ron.

  “Aye she’s a talented lassie, our Mallory.” He nodded, smiling. Our Mallory. Her heart warmed at Ron’s choice of words. Greg put the board down leaning it up against the bar. He turned to Mallory and for a m
oment looked rather awkward. Eventually he grabbed her and hugged her hard. She felt winded. Her cheeks heated at his show of gratitude. When he freed her she just smiled, not really knowing what to say.

  Greg’s cheeks coloured. He fidgeted and ran his hands through his hair. He didn’t seem to do public displays of affection comfortably. He muttered something under his breath about keeping it out of the way so it didn’t get damaged and walked out toward the back of the pub. Mallory looked at Ron and they both chuckled.

  When he returned he had pulled himself together and began to show Mallory the ropes. He showed her how to operate the till, take food orders, where the glasses were kept, how to measure out shorts, and everything else he could think to teach her.

  Then came the moment she had been dreading. She knew how folks, especially men, could be rather persnickety about the way their beer was served. She was aware that too much froth— “It’s called a head,” Greg had corrected her–was a bad thing but not enough froth—“Head, Mallory!”—was just as bad.

  She gulped as Greg showed her how to tilt the glass at just the right angle. Not too far. The beer slid down the side of the glass and he slowly brought it to an upright position as the glass filled. Impressive, he makes that look easy. Mallory felt cocky.

  It was her turn. The first pint was all froth—sorry, head. Greg and Ron howled with laughter. Mallory felt her cheeks heat again. The second, all beer, no head. The men laughed again. Mallory was annoyed and stamped her foot like a petulant child. The third was better and had potential, according to Greg and Ron.