by Lisa Hobman
‘Oh thank, God, Mallory!’ Renee exclaimed ‘We’ve been worried sick!’ She pulled her cardigan around her shoulders to guard against the chill wind.
Greg appeared at the passenger side and opened the door. Mallory tried to get out of the vehicle.
‘Whoa there lassie, you’ve nothin’ on your feet.’ He scooped her up with ease and began to walk towards the door. She had never been carried by a man before and on one hand it compounded the feeling of helplessness tightening her insides but on the other she was relieved at not having to walk on her sore, stone scratched feet.
Brad didn’t appear happy about this gallant action and quickly followed him inside. ‘Who are you, pal?’ he asked in a rather threatening manner, his broad Yorkshire accent becoming more evident in anger. ‘Why does she look like she’s been dragged through an ’edge?’ Brad clenched his fists at his sides.
Greg’s jaw ticked at the insinuations as he placed Mallory on the sofa. ‘I found her on the beach sobbing her heart out, if you must know. She’s nothing on her feet and no coat. Have you any idea how cold it gets out there, pal?’ Greg fronted up to Brad.
Mallory panicked at the sudden testosterone-fuelled confrontation. ‘Whoa, hey! Knock it off, please!’ she implored. ‘Brad… Greg came to my rescue when I went a bit crazy tonight, and Greg… Brad wasn’t responsible for my lack of appropriate clothing. I went out like this of my own accord. So, can you please just back up and shake hands?’
It was the most she had spoken in a while and everyone stared at her, open-mouthed, as if a miracle had just occurred.
Greg nodded to the two ladies and held out his hand to Brad. ‘I’ll be going, now that I know she’s okay.’
Brad grasped his hand and shook it. ‘Look mate, why don’t you stay for a coffee or summat? Warm you up a bit? And thanks for helping Mal. She’s like my little sister and I would never forgive myself if she got hurt.’
Greg looked to Mallory for her consent. Mallory shrugged.
Greg sat awkwardly beside her on the sofa as the others busied themselves sorting coffee and Renee went to call Ryan to let him know Mallory had returned.
Greg nudged Mallory’s shoulder with his own. ‘See, you have people who care. Don’t go scaring ’em like that again, okay?’
‘When we were in your car, you said it gets easier… how do you know that? How can anyone say that?’ she pleaded.
He frowned, staring into the flames of the fire. ‘Well, only those who’ve experienced loss and grief and have come out the other side can really know, I suppose.’
‘You’ve been through this?’ she asked gingerly.
He continued staring. ‘Aye.’ His voice was clipped.
‘Your wife?’ she asked, remembering the indentation of the wedding band.
‘Na. My…’ He inhaled deeply. He rubbed his brow as if it hurt to think about it.
She wanted to ask more; to find out whom he had lost. For her own sake admittedly, which was selfish, but she wanted to know how he had got through it, so she could at least start to try. But she didn’t.
He stood. ‘Look, it’s late, I’d better go, I’ve got an early start the morrow. Got to pick Rhiannon up and I can’t be late. Tell your family I’m grateful for the offer of a drink, but I really should be off.’ His voice cracked as he briskly walked to the door, pulled it open with ease, and left.
Mallory stared at the door, a little bemused as to why he had gone in such a hurry. She had no clue who Rhiannon was, but she was clearly very demanding.
Josie and Brad returned to the lounge with a tray and glanced around the room.
Josie tried to lighten the mood. ‘Where’s Cutie McHunky gone?’ Brad elbowed her. ‘Ow!’
‘I think I upset him,’ Mallory admitted. ‘He said he’d been through this situation and so I asked about it.’ Her bottom lip began to quiver. ‘Then he left and I feel so awful. I didn’t mean to pry.’ The tears sprang from her eyes as guilt washed over her.
Josie sat beside her and hugged her close. ‘Hey, hey, it’s okay, don’t worry about him, you don’t even know him from Adam,’ she soothed. ‘It’s you that you need to be concentrating on now.’
Mallory nodded, but deep down she knew there was more to what had just happened. He had been so caring; it was as if things were still raw for him. She regretted questioning him and resolved to apologise.
Chapter Five
May 2015
In the few days that followed the cremation and her mini breakdown, new neighbours made themselves known to her. Her tragic circumstances had spread around the village like a wildfire. She was touched by their condolences, offers of kind, reassuring words and help.
Colin and Christine, the proprietors at the village shop, stopped by with home-made carrot cake; Colin’s specialty they had told her. Ron from the pub came by to walk Ruby several times and the lady from a couple of doors down, who had lost her husband a year ago, called by with flowers, a card and an understanding hug. Mallory had shed tears at how wonderful these, to all intents and purposes, strangers were being. She felt sad that her welcome had been under such sad and painful circumstances. But they had welcomed her nonetheless.
Josie and Brad had put their own lives on hold temporarily, unwilling to leave Mallory to deal with her grief without them close-by. Friday evening came around and her friends decided that she really should get out of the cottage. They figured that a nice walk in the fresh air and then a couple of drinks at the pub was in order. Mallory took some convincing, but eventually she conceded and readied herself. Renee had agreed that Ruby should stay home and she was happy to doggy-sit.
Mallory pulled on a baggy sweater, jeans and a fleece. She scraped her hair into a low ponytail and slid her spectacles up her nose. When she examined her appearance in the bathroom mirror she was shocked at just how pale and drawn she had become. She lifted her glasses and dabbed on some under-eye concealer to rid herself of the dark circles and rubbed a tinted lip balm onto her lips. She didn’t have to look glamorous, but human would help.
The walk was short but helped clear some of the fuzz that had taken up residence in her head. They detoured slightly and stopped at the midpoint of the bridge on their journey towards the pub. Mallory inhaled the cool sea air into her lungs and fought the tears that once again stung her eyes. Would she forever be plagued by this sinking feeling whenever she stood here? Josie and Brad, who flanked her, enveloped her in a group hug. It felt good.
‘C’mon guys.’ She squeezed her friends’ shoulders. ‘To coin a well-known Josie Gardiner phrase… “let’s go get rat-arsed!”’ This brought giggles and overly enthusiastic grins to her friends’ faces. They made their way towards the inviting glow of the pub lights and its warm welcome.
Inside, Mallory stopped when she saw Greg leaning on the bar at one end; pint in hand. Unlike the other occasions she had encountered the brusque Scotsman, this time he was on the other side of the bar, not grumpily serving the locals and visitors. He looked fidgety and rather nervous. He was wearing a dark blue shirt which had little pale blue flowers on it – a contrast to the faded band T-shirts she had seen him in before, but it suited him. Probably on a date, she deduced.
The three friends sat by the fireplace with their drinks and chatted. Josie and Brad doing their best to keep the conversation light-hearted and Mallory began to enjoy a relaxed feeling brought on by the alcohol.
They had just begun their third round of drinks when someone began to speak over the 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 guil
ty 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 good naturedly.
Lifting his guitar aloft, he went on, ‘So…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 yous 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 the song title.’ 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! Who’d have thought it? They laughed together at their mutual shock. He named his guitar? Bit odd… It did, however, explain who Rhiannon actually was.
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. 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 the 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 loch. Clutching her chest, she struggled 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 a strong embrace.
‘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 to 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 up and the most horrendous pounding in her head 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 even though 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.
Thankfully 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… Actually it was… their song.’
Clearly horrified, Greg’s eyes widened and he inhaled sharply. ‘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… oh 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.
Mallory heard Brad shout from somewhere towards the kitchen, ‘Don’t worry, mate, Josie has said much worse.’ Hmm, he has a point.
Greg shook his head. ‘Every time I see that girl I seem to put ma fuckin’ size ten in my mouth. I’m going to go before I do any more damage to the poor wee lass. 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 of her way I reckon.’
Mallory’s heart sank a little at his words. Poor Greg. It wasn’t his fault.
Josie shook her head and held up a halting hand. ‘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 little grandson and after all, she couldn’t stay in Scotland indefinitely. They stood at the taxi which had pulled up and been loaded with her bags and she hugged Mallory as if she never wanted to let go.
Renee choked back tears. ‘Now you listen, young lady. You had something so special with my son. He adored you and that makes you family. I’m going to send plane tickets, so you must 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 feeling sad though, honey, you’re young and you must not let this terrible grief become who you are. Sam would hate for you to sit around looking so sad.’ She kissed Mallory and cupped her cheek. ‘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 with you.’
After another embrace, 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’ll visit so
on?’
‘I promise, Renee.’
The car pulled away and Mallory raised her hand to wave. Josie stepped forward and slid her arm around Mallory’s 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 readjusting 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 so good to laugh.
After they had given all the framed pictures a new home, Josie made coffee whilst Brad went out to buy beer for the evening.
Josie brought the coffee through to the lounge and sat next to Mallory on the couch, nudging her shoulder gently. ‘So, honeybun. What do you think you’ll do now?’ she inquired.
‘About what?’
‘Well, will you sell up and come home to Yorkshire? Will you stay here?’
Mallory sighed. ‘Oh, Josie, I honestly don’t know. My mind keeps swaying to and fro on the matter. One minute I’m definitely staying here and another I feel it would be best to leave. But Sam wanted to be here and so my overriding feeling is that I should stay and make a go of things just how we hoped. With Sam’s life insurance paying off the mortgage, staying would be okay financially. But… then again 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. I’ve said it before, you can’t get shot of us that easily you know.’ Josie laughed. ‘Brad and I are going to go home tomorrow. Maybe you need some time to adjust. You can’t really do that until we’re out of your way.’
