I felt out of place, though. Parents stopped to talk easily to my best Chat Club ‘student’, Esther, and the other woman at our stand, but no one was prepared to speak to me in either English or German. I was still the foreigner here. When I caught Leon’s eye across the hall, he looked away guiltily. He must have known it would have been easier for me if he were by my side. He wasn’t aware I simply wanted to hold on to that mother–child connection before he grew into an adult.
As we cleared trestle tables and poster boards away at the end of the day, Leon’s teacher caught up with me, and we crossed the courtyard together.
‘Frau Reed, I didn’t want to talk to you before because we were so busy with the exhibition, but I need to speak to you about Leon.’
My heart sank. Her tone didn’t sound positive.
‘I want to thank you so much for helping with this exhibition. Your input was invaluable.’
She hesitated. I knew immediately she had some bad news for me. The one-minute manager. Praise before the bad news.
‘I don’t know if you are aware, but Leon seems to have lost his way this year at school. His grades are way below the level for his transfer to Gymnasium and he does not seem happy to be at school. He and another boy are being very disruptive in class, and I am afraid they may have been picking on some of the younger students in the primary school during break. I wanted to wait until the end of the school year to see if things improved, but an incident this week means I have to speak to you. This is something the school cannot tolerate, and the school counsellor has asked me on more than one occasion whether we need to address the issue with you, the parents.’
‘Wow, I knew he was behind on some assignments, but… no, I wasn’t aware. I’m stunned.’
I knew I was distracted at the moment, with the Manfred incident and the decision to run a marathon later in the year. But I didn’t think there were signs I had ignored. Or worse, could I be the cause? This was surely every mother’s fear.
Taking a deep breath, I thanked the teacher for making me aware of the situation, and promised to address the issue.
Simon and I lay in bed reading, the silence a comfortable familiarity. I finished a chapter before closing the book and placing it on my stomach.
‘Leon’s teacher talked to me at school today. He’s having a few problems with his work and… his social behaviour. I’m finding it very difficult to talk to him at the moment.’
Simon lowered his book and looked at me.
‘Oh, really? What’s up? It sounds like he’s doing great when he talks to me. Is he getting poor grades?’
‘His grades are pretty bad. He doesn’t get his assignments in on time and he’s doing the absolute bare minimum at the moment. Plus his teacher says he’s been teasing some of the younger kids in the playground. She talked about getting the school counsellor in, to address bullying.’
I waited while Simon absorbed this.
‘That’s not so good, Al. I’ll have a talk to him at the weekend. I’m sure it’s something we can straighten out. Are you okay? I wouldn’t worry. He just needs a bit of nudging in the right direction.’
‘I’m fine. It’s just a little weird, coming on the back of the suicide thing. I feel like a load of negatives are building up. I didn’t get a very good feeling at the exhibition at school. It’s still so hard to feel accepted by the community.’
‘Then it’s good you’ve decided to run this marathon. It’ll be great for you to concentrate on a goal for yourself. And Kathy will be supporting you.’
I thought of Kathy and her lifestyle. Endless shopping and lunches with the executive wives. Running was really the only thing we had in common.
‘I’ve got to get some sleep,’ he said, pecking me on my cheek.
He rolled over onto his side and turned out his bedside light.
It seemed I had been asleep but a moment when the telephone rang persistently on the bedside table. Normally a light sleeper, I dragged myself out of the somnolent depths before reaching across to the phone. The light blinking dully from the number display was enough to allow me to locate the handset in the darkness.
‘Hallo,’ I mumbled sleepily. A static crackle. I was about to return the handset to its cradle when I heard a slow intake of breath. I pushed the phone tightly to the shell of my ear, thinking I had missed something, and heard a subsequent exhalation.
‘Hello, who is this?’ I asked, senses now alert.
‘Mmm?’ groaned Simon beside me, ever the comatose sleeper.
‘Ssshh.’ I pressed the receiver harder against my head, until all I could hear was my own ragged breath roaring from the mouthpiece to my ear. I cleared my throat, and heard a click and the drone of the dial tone.
‘Wrong number,’ mumbled Simon and sank back into slumber. I squinted at the caller-identity screen on the handset. It showed ‘withheld’ which didn’t give me any clues. It could be a mobile phone.
Annoyed I had been fully awakened, I shuffled to the bathroom for a pee. The fluorescent light over the bathroom mirror blinded me. I gathered my nightie and sat on the toilet with my eyes half-closed, cursing the boys’ inconsiderateness as my thighs hit porcelain so cold it felt wet. I reversed my crouch, put the seat down, sank back down and crossed my arms on my thighs, absently studying the ceramic tiles of the bathroom floor.
Chapter Ten
I scrolled back through my messages until I reached the one I assumed was from Manfred. I didn’t have to go far as I rarely used my mobile phone. I opened the message and hovered over the choices available to me. I was about to begin keying a reply when I chose the CALL option.
‘Alice!’ He picked up on the first ring, and his voice made my earlobes tingle.
‘Hi, Manfred, I just wanted to check in with you. Make sure you’re doing okay. I’ve been thinking about you since Sunday…’ I paused, hoping my statement didn’t sound odd.
‘What a coincidence! I wanted to contact you. I have to come to Aegeri at the end of the week. For some business. Will you meet me for coffee?’
‘Umm…’ I bit my lip. This was a far cry from the guy I’d found on the bridge three days before.
‘It’s okay. I wanted to thank you again. Maybe text messages don’t come across in the right way. Please. One coffee.’
‘Okay,’ I said slowly. ‘How about ten o’clock on Friday at the Lido Café? It’s near the bus st—’
‘I know where that café is. Perfect. We’ll see each other then.’
As I pushed the END CALL button, I felt relieved. He sounded confident. Lively. Not like someone who would return to thoughts of taking his life.
As I pulled into a parking space in front of the café, Manfred strode towards me. He was wearing a charcoal-grey suit with a white shirt and smart maroon tie, and carried a leather attaché case under his arm. He was prepared for whatever his ‘business’ was in our quiet little alpine village, and he looked rather striking. I felt a little sloppy in my fleece jacket over a T-shirt and a pair of patched jeans, and lifted my hand to my head to smooth my hair as I felt the heat rise to my throat.
I stepped out of the car and put out my palm for a handshake. He bypassed my hand and held my elbow, kissing me boldly three times on the cheeks in the traditional Swiss greeting between friends. I blushed as he walked up the steps to the café and held the door open for me. I smiled my thanks and walked in.
The waitress recognised me and awarded me a curt nod. She glanced past me and beamed at Manfred, her eyes flicking over him in appreciation, and gave him a jovial ‘Grüezi!’
We took a table close to the window with a view towards the lake. I ordered a tea and Manfred an espresso.
‘She doesn’t seem so friendly with you,’ Manfred whispered as the waitress walked away.
‘No, I’m not her favourite person. She’s the manageress here, and the mother of twins in Leon’s class at school. They’ve been together all the way through primary school and she still holds a grudge for the things I did wrong w
hen we first moved here. I walked the boys to school for months at first. I didn’t realise it’s taboo here. Part of the kids’ education is learning independence. You’d never let kids so young make their own way to school in England. It’s just not safe. Anyway, she reported me to the school director, and there were words. It’s amazing how someone can keep hold of a bad feeling for so long, especially one arising from something so insignificant. I think it’s more to do with the fact that I’m a foreigner. Anyway, it’s the only decent café in the village with a good view, so I tolerate her grumpiness.’
The waitress returned with our order on a tray, and placed the cups on the table. Manfred said something to her in Swiss German. At first charmed by his attention, I caught the words ‘Engel’ and ‘Menschenliebe’ and her smile faltered as she glanced at me. I cringed inside to think Manfred was explaining my good turn the previous Sunday. I was sure this woman’s imagination wouldn’t stretch to thinking of me as an ‘angel’ capable of ‘human kindness’. I concentrated on the cup in front of me, pressing as much flavour as possible out of the weak Swiss teabag.
‘You didn’t need to do that,’ I said as she walked away. ‘You’re probably only making things worse for me.’
‘People need to know about your goodness, Alice.’
I glanced at him, and he smiled. I wasn’t sure whether he was joking, but I felt strangely flattered.
‘What kind of business are you doing in the village?’ I changed the subject, genuinely curious about his sudden return to confidence after wanting to take his life only days ago.
‘I have a document I needed to sign. The lawyer needed to witness it. I… he lives in a house up the hill. It’s done. I have everything I need. Everything is perfect.’
‘That’s good. I’m glad you’re so positive.’
‘You’ve made me realise how stupid my action was. I have rediscovered a purpose in life. That’s why I wanted to thank you today.’
Manfred had already finished his espresso, but my tea was still too hot to drink. He gazed out of the window over my shoulder.
‘I didn’t want to hurt anyone,’ he said, and I recalled my statement on the bridge about leaving a mess. ‘I wouldn’t have hurt them. My w… wise sister. My boy.’
I frowned.
‘They would have missed you.’
‘You don’t understand. You don’t know why I was there. Last Sunday.’
Having been so curious for the past few days, I wasn’t sure now whether I wanted to know.
‘There was a knife,’ Manfred continued, and I swallowed. ‘For cutting bread. Sharp. Victorinox, good quality. Swiss.’ He paused, and I didn’t know what to say.
‘I never intended to hurt them. Would never have hurt them. But my son, that morning he was driving me crazy.’
I chewed my lip, but forced myself to maintain eye contact.
‘So you see, there was already a mess in my life. I was leaving one behind, and the bridge was to solve that mess. But now I’ve met you, and you have made me see clearly. That’s why I’m thanking you.’
My heart thumped. Manfred’s arm lay next to his cup on the table, and I had the feeling he was going to reach for my hand. To keep both mine occupied, and wishing my tea would cool faster, I took a croissant from the wire breakfast basket on the table and tore off one end. The waitress would shortly clear the tables and prepare them for the lunch crowd. The bread helped ease the burning on my tongue but prevented conversation as buttery flakes filled my mouth. I sprinkled the crumbs from my fingers onto a serviette in front of me, filling the silence with meaningless distracting activity. Manfred watched my every move.
‘Manfred, can I ask you where you got my mobile number?’ I asked when I could finally speak again.
His face scrunched into an expression Leon might have used if I’d asked him the same question, as though I was supposed to know the answer. I raised my eyebrows. The pause had given him a couple of extra seconds to answer.
‘At the hospital. I asked if I could have it. In case… you know, to thank you.’
I imagined him persuading the nurse to give him the number. That disarming smile. Those green eyes. Still, they shouldn’t have given it to him. It didn’t seem professional. Very un-Swiss.
‘Have you tried calling on our landline at home?’
‘No, is that preferable?’
‘It’s okay. I’m just glad you’re okay. Who did you end up talking to at the hospital?’
He smiled and tipped his head, as though he hadn’t understood the question.
‘I hope they had a psychologist on duty,’ I continued. ‘Will you be having some therapy sessions? It’s really important you continue to talk to somebody about what happened.’
‘They have a good group of professionals at the cantonal hospital, yes. It’s a smart new facility. Good to see the taxpayers’ money going into something useful.’
‘It’s not just about the fact that you tried to take your life, Manfred. There is much more healing to be done. You have to start with yourself before you deal with your… family.’
‘It’s all about talking it out, isn’t it, Alice? This is also good therapy. Talking to you.’
I smiled at him, and glanced at my watch.
‘Oh, I’m afraid I have to go. The boys will be home from school soon and I need to prepare their lunch. I’m so glad to see you’re feeling better. It’s important to keep talking to the professionals. I’m not a very good practitioner.’
He looked at me with a quizzical smile. I reached into my bag for my purse, but he put his hand on my arm.
‘Honestly, Alice, I’m okay. This is on me.’
He spoke as though I was being an overprotective mother, and I hoped he didn’t think I was a prude. It was as though I was suffering more from his suicide attempt than him. I put on my fleece to cover my flustered state. He left a ten-franc note and a few coins to cover the bill and a tip.
‘I came by bus,’ he said as I unlocked the car outside the café. ‘So I’ll say goodbye here. Or I should say Uf Widerluege.’
And before I could say anything he kissed me again three times on the cheeks.
Uf Widerluege. Not goodbye. But see you again.
I hadn’t asked him where he was going on the bus. I wondered what had really gone on in Manfred’s house the morning before he went to the bridge. I felt so sorry for his confusion and conflict.
And then I thought what Simon would say.
That I was crazy to have even considered meeting with this man.
Chapter Eleven
‘Mum, where are you going?’ Oliver asked. ‘We’re supposed to be driving to the sports store.’
I had taken a detour off the main road to Zug.
‘Oli, we are going to the store. Just taking a diversion today.’
I sucked in my lower lip. Avoiding the bridge was like suppressing the memory of that Sunday. I hadn’t driven the car anywhere outside the village since then. I made Oliver sit in the back. He complained at first, as he had only recently been allowed to ride up front, but relented when he found a long-lost electronic toy hidden in the depths of the rear seat pocket. He glanced out of the window briefly as we took the detour. After my laconic explanation, he went back to frantically clicking his game.
In the store, Oliver chose a new pair of shinpads and begged me to buy him a football shirt to add to the many in his collection. I was too weak to argue that he had enough football shirts. He climbed into the back of the car without prompting, happily clutching his bag. As I started the engine and began backing out of the parking space, he pulled his purchases out of the bag, absently looking at each item.
‘Oh, yeah, Mum, I was supposed to tell you something earlier and I forgot. There was a man outside the school today when we came out for lunch. He said he knew you, and he wanted me to say hello from him.’
My eyes darted to the rear-view mirror, searching Oliver’s face. He didn’t seem concerned, merely recounting an observation.
Oliver answered slowly, stretching out his new shirt to look at the logo.
‘That’s the thing. I can’t remember. I only remember he said to say hello to you.’
I took a deep breath.
‘Can you remember what he looked like?’
‘Um, a bit older than Dad, a bit taller maybe. He had kind of greyish hair.’
He sounded bored. Our eyes made brief contact in the mirror and he began shoving the shirt back in the shopping bag. His eyes glazed over as he looked out of the window.
‘Can you remember what he was wearing? Did he have glasses?’
‘Nah. Maybe. Don’t know. Too many questions, Mum. He just said to say hello. It’s no big deal, not like I had an important message to deliver, right?’
‘Was his name Manfred?’
‘Um… yeah, that was his name!’
‘Was anyone with you?’
‘What’s with the twenty questions? Is this a test? Actually, I was with Sara. We walk halfway home together most days. But don’t go thinking we’re an item. That’s totally not happening.’
‘It’s okay, Oli, I was just curious.’
‘Anyway, Sara and I always split after the basketball court, and the guy had gone by then.’
Oliver pushed the bag to one side, picked up the electronic toy and continued his clicking. I dragged my eyes back to the road from the mirror, biting my lip. How had he recognised Oliver? Had he seen us together at some stage? I wondered what Manfred was still doing in our village and guessed he had more business appointments there. I shrugged and indicated to turn up the hill towards home.
Carrying the shopping from the garage to the house, my mobile beeped. I put the bags down and checked the message.
Thanks for coffee the other day. He hadn’t signed it, but I knew it was Manfred. I hadn’t put his number in my contacts because I didn’t think I’d hear from him again.
I answered: But you paid.
He texted: Thanks for everything that went with the coffee.
I assumed he meant being able to talk to me. I wasn’t sure what to reply. You’re welcome seemed too gushy.
Strangers on a Bridge Page 5
