Strangers on a Bridge

by Louise Mangos

  I hadn’t read about this installation, hadn’t heard people talking. Wouldn’t Kathy have said something? Simon maybe? I reached up to the top of a panel, my arm stretched almost to its full extent, fingers folding over the top. The strength it would have taken to pull myself up and topple over the lip would have been too much. And although Manfred was taller than me, he could never have made the extra effort to haul himself over the top of this barrier. For Manfred, and for me, this addition had come too late.

  My fingers remained hooked over the top of the panel, and I leaned into the wall, tears squeezing out of the corners of my closed eyes. I reflected on the fantasy I had briefly conjured. That none of it had ever happened. That I had never seen Manfred that day on the bridge.

  A car beeped its horn as it drove past, making me jump. I turned to look. The driver’s mouth formed an ‘O’, his passenger craning back to watch me, wondering what I was doing on the bridge.

  Chapter Sixty-One

  The following Tuesday, I drove to Allenwinden and parked in the middle of the village. Gerry was already there, sitting on a wall outside the village shop. His jean-clad legs were stretched casually out in front of him. He was watching me as I pulled up in the Land Rover. He combed his hair with his fingers before standing, and I tore my gaze away to manoeuvre the car into a parking space. As I pulled the key from the ignition, I glanced in the rear-view mirror and tucked a ringlet of hair behind my ear. I caught Gerry smiling at me and pressed my lips together, knowing he’d seen me check myself in the mirror.

  ‘Hello, Alice, it’s good to see you again.’

  Before I could react, he was holding both my arms and kissing me three times on the cheeks in the traditional Swiss greeting. My heart was still beating from his approach. I thought he was going to kiss me on the lips and I turned my head slightly towards him. The result was our noses bumped a little awkwardly before his lips brushed my cheek, and I felt foolish.

  ‘Let’s walk. There’s a footpath out towards the forest over here. The exercise will do us both good,’ I said more casually than I felt.

  I shoved my hands deep into my jacket pockets as we wandered through the school grounds towards the trailhead.

  ‘I’ve been stuck inside the lab all morning, and I’m sick of the smell of sulphuric acid,’ Gerry said. ‘I hope I don’t smell of chemicals.’

  Apples, balsam, laundry detergent, I wanted to tell him. I wondered if his mother still laundered his clothes.

  The path took us around the edge of a sports field where a game of soccer was taking place. The occasional shouts from the kids drifted to us across the grass and I felt somehow safer with young children in the proximity.

  ‘You mentioned the police had contacted you again,’ I said.

  ‘They asked me about the medication my father was taking at the time of his suicide.’

  ‘Mmm?’

  My heart hammered, but I remained outwardly calm.

  ‘And I remembered I’d given it to you from our medicine cabinet. I didn’t say anything, but wondered if you still had it.’

  My mouth went dry. If they had done an autopsy on Manfred, they would certainly have identified the Quilonorm in his system.

  ‘I went to visit your father in his new apartment once,’ I said carefully. ‘I thought there was a vague chance I could try to get him to continue taking his medicine, to see if it would neutralise his… mania. Our conversation took a different turn at the time, and we never even broached the subject of his medication. But I left the box of Quilonorm with him. Is there a problem?’

  ‘No, no problem… The latest questions by the police reminded me I had given them to you, that’s all…’

  I swallowed. I couldn’t imagine what was going through his mind.

  ‘The thing is, they didn’t just find lithium in his body. They found other stuff.’

  My stomach knotted.

  ‘Something that can only be obtained with a prescription. And I have no idea how he might have obtained it. The police have asked our family doctor and my father’s psychologist. But he hadn’t seen either of them for many months before his death, and neither of them had prescribed this drug. They are curious to know where he would have obtained it. That’s all.’

  That’s all? I swallowed and shivered, pulling my jacket around my chest. I had been careful not to use something that couldn’t be obtained over the counter. I was thankful I hadn’t accepted my own GP’s offer of a sedative, otherwise that might have found its way into Manfred’s lethal cocktail. I was nevertheless uneasy about Gerry’s comments. He must have been mistaken about the prescription drugs. I shrugged.

  In the distance, someone scored a goal, and the joyous roar from the young team allowed me the opportunity to stop, turn away from Gerry and concentrate on the celebration on the field. A group of boys gathered round the goal scorer, jumping up and down and administering high fives. I chewed my lip.

  ‘I’m not sure why you think this is significant enough to have to meet me, Gerry. What is it you think you will learn from me?’

  ‘I’m not sure.’

  He looked sad now, and I felt sorry for him.

  ‘It was because of that connection with his medication. I guess it’s a bit late to be searching for answers, isn’t it? You already tried to help my father all those months ago, and I’m now sorry I didn’t help you more. I am sorry, Alice, really.’

  I looked at him. He seemed genuinely upset. It felt like the most natural thing in the world to place my arms around him and give him a comforting hug. But as he lowered his head and buried it against my shoulder, it was too late. Touching him could have been the undoing of both of us. I heard the intake of his breath against my ear, and the hair on the back of my neck stood up.

  ‘Gerry, I… No.’

  I pushed gently at his arms.

  ‘Alice, Alice. I need to see you. Please don’t push me away.’

  ‘Gerry, I’m so sorry. I think you’ve misunderstood. I cannot reciprocate your feelings. I’m not even sure I understand what is going on here. But I am a married woman. I have a family. Whatever fantasy you are building, it cannot happen.’

  He looked at me with forlorn eyes, then stood straight and replaced his wistful look with an uneven smile.

  ‘I know how I make you feel, Alice. Wisdom may be on your side, but I am youthfully aware of what constitutes attraction. That kind of attraction. I am attracted to you. It’s as simple as that. And I know you feel something too.’

  ‘I know you are, Gerry. And I’m not denying you are an attractive young man. You just need to know that I would not…’

  Gerry’s hand wound itself in my hair and, with his other hand on my shoulder, he pulled me towards him, placing his exquisitely soft mouth on mine. He tasted minty. Toothpaste, not chewing gum. As if he had been planning this. A real kiss.

  I was horrified to find myself kissing him back, my breath whipped from my throat, my knees suddenly weak and my belly on fire. As my head began to spin, I pushed him away.

  ‘No… please, Gerry. Don’t do this. You have to respect my wishes. I don’t want to destroy my family, let down my husband.’

  ‘He will never know.’ Gerry smiled strangely, and placed his finger gently on my lips. ‘Shh.’

  It was as though the roles were reversed. I was now the innocent young maiden and he the lover with many years’ experience. I was helpless. I couldn’t let him kiss me again, no matter how much I wanted him to.

  We never even reached the trailhead. I thought we might walk to the Wildenburg ruins on the edge of the Lorze Gorge, but now I knew I needed to get away as quickly as possible.

  ‘I have to go. Gerry, we cannot meet again. It will destroy both of us. I’m sorry. I have a lot more to lose than you.’

  The football game came to an end with a triple shrill of the referee’s whistle. I turned to watch the teams jogging towards the centre of the pitch, forming a line with their backs to us to congratulate each other on the game. I wondered
absently who had won. Team blue or team red. I had to think about something other than the sweet burning sensation on my lips. I turned to walk back to the post office parking lot, fists still deep in my pockets so Gerry couldn’t hold my hand.

  As we reached the car, I pressed the key to unlock it, and he gallantly held the door open for me. He took my hand as I shifted into the seat, the confines of the car protecting me from his touch. He turned my wrist, looked at my other arm.

  ‘You took it off. The friendship band.’

  I kicked myself mentally for not having returned the bracelet. I didn’t want to be beholden to him for anything. It was in my bedside drawer, but now I vowed to throw it out.

  ‘But we are still friends, yes?’

  ‘Yes, Gerry. Of course we are still friends. You are a fine young man.’

  It was hard to know how to finish this conversation. It was difficult enough tearing myself away, regret now flooding in on my guilt. But something inside me knew I shouldn’t anger him. A breeze ruffled Gerry’s hair, and I leaned over to pull the door closed.

  ‘You must have a string of women after you,’ I said. ‘You shouldn’t be occupying yourself with someone like me. I’m just about old enough to be your mother.’

  I winced at the age-old cliché, but wanted to try and shock him into accepting the truth of our incompatibility, without enraging him with my rejection. At the same time I was a little sad. The excitement of a first attraction I would never again be allowed to experience. He tried not to look hurt.

  The door clunked shut and I opened the window halfway. I didn’t offer to drop him anywhere, and I didn’t ask how he’d got there in the first place. I turned the key in the ignition, and the Land Rover coughed into life. I wished I could hold on to that feeling of excited devotion. There was a certain exhilaration – being made to feel young, the energy, the goodness. Wanted.

  ‘There’s one more thing, Alice.’ Gerry hesitated, and my ears rang with the change in his voice. ‘I can’t help feeling there might be something you are not telling me. About the day my father died.’

  I went cold. And just like that I knew he suspected.

  ‘Alice, if you change your mind about seeing me, you have my number.’

  He spoke through the rectangle of space, his voice now monotone.

  ‘You can always call or text me. I’ll be around, and if you think of anything significant you need to tell me, I’m here. I’m here for you.’

  A cold wind momentarily roared through the gap in the window, making my eyes smart as he turned to go. Initially grateful he had kept me sane by not constantly dragging me back to the memory of Manfred, I now imagined this was all a ruse to disarm me, make me talk.

  I drove away, eyes flicking to the rear-view mirror as Gerry diminished in my vision. The warm glow I had felt half an hour before was now a cold brick in my stomach.

  Although I had performed the mundane domestic task of the weekly shop on the way home, I was still wavering between worry and betrayal as I walked through the apartment door. I carried my bags to the kitchen.

  ‘Hey, hey! What’s going on?’ I exclaimed as I shrugged out of my jacket.

  The fridge door was wide open, and an empty chocolate wrapper lay torn on the kitchen table. School and sport bags were piled up in the doorway.

  ‘Don’t you have any homework? Have you showered already? How was training?’

  I closed the fridge door.

  Oliver dragged his schoolbag over to the table.

  ‘We didn’t have training tonight. We had an away game. The first of the season. The other team couldn’t play on Saturday. There was a change at the last minute.’

  His voice was tight.

  ‘Let me go and start the laundry, and I’ll be right back to prepare dinner, and you can tell me all about it.’

  ‘Mum… you…’

  ‘I’ll be right back. Kit in here?’

  I didn’t wait for an answer and left the kitchen.

  ‘You don’t care that I scored a goal then!’ he yelled angrily after me.

  He was in a bad mood, provoked by finding his brother had eaten all his chocolate, and wasn’t yet home to argue about it. It was pointless talking about it if Leon wasn’t there to defend himself. I bit my tongue and shook my head as I walked down the hallway. I would give him five minutes to calm down. Down in the laundry room I stuffed Oliver’s football gear into the machine. Red jersey. Their home jersey was white. The red strip… It was their away strip. They played away.

  Fear clutched at my throat. The blood drained from my face, and panic kept me rooted to the spot as I listened to water trickling into the machine and the first whir of the turning drum.

  Chapter Sixty-Two

  ‘Mum, don’t you even care that I scored a goal? It’s the first time they put me on as a forward. I’ve always been in defence. This is huge for me.’

  ‘Of course I care, Oli. I think it’s fantastic. I’m so proud of you!’

  ‘You don’t care, Mum. I saw you there, schmoozing with that bloke.’

  My stomach dropped. I grabbed the back of a chair.

  ‘Who was that?’ Oliver continued. ‘I thought I recognised him, but couldn’t see from across the pitch. Didn’t I see him here one time? Isn’t that the kind of stuff married people aren’t supposed to do? I never saw you kiss Dad like that.’

  My heart raced and my mouth went dry. My whole future was in danger of splintering into a thousand sharp pieces. I added raw fear to the cocktail of emotions I was now experiencing.

  ‘Oli, that man you saw me with today, he was just a friend, he needed comforting, he was…’

  The front door slammed and Simon strode down the hallway, pulling his tie away from his collar as he came into the kitchen.

  No! I need more time!

  I was still in shock and didn’t have time to hide the worry on my face.

  ‘What?’ Simon came to a halt, and I shook my head, forcing my mouth into a smile.

  I drifted towards him and put my arms around his neck. I hugged Simon and glared at Oliver over his shoulder, silently willing him not to say any more. But Oliver’s anger was still coming off him in hormone-enraged waves. He was hurt, wrongly assuming I had made the effort to go and watch his game, but missed the one defining moment of his pre-adolescent football career.

  ‘Mum was snogging some guy at the football match today. She didn’t give a stuff about my game.’

  Simon burst out laughing, gently pushed me away, and fetched a beer from the fridge. I put my hand to my forehead.

  ‘I didn’t know you had a match, young fellow. How did you do?’ Simon asked, popping the cap off a Baarer Bier.

  ‘At least you care,’ Oli said, pouting. ‘She couldn’t even get her mouth off his face.’ Simon’s smile faltered. He lowered the beer.

  ‘Whoa, hold on there. What are you on about? What are you accusing your mother of? Why the anger, Oli? Did you guys lose?’

  Simon’s gaze flickered to my face, and he stood straighter, registering my glossy eyes. He put the beer bottle on the counter and wiped a fleck of froth from his lip.

  ‘No, Dad, we won, and I scored a goal. The winning goal.’

  Oliver placed the palms of his hands on the table and stood up. His chair screeched on the floor tiles as he pushed it away with the back of his legs, then stamped out of the kitchen and up the stairs. My mouth hung open. I was stunned. This was the last thing I’d expected – and it was all down to some incredibly bad timing.

  ‘What guy?’ Simon looked at me curiously.

  My teeth clicked as I closed my mouth. Sweat pricked at the sides of my nose.

  ‘What guy, Al? Hello, Alice? What guy? He’s got some story mixed up here. Let me go and talk to him.’

  I had to say something, but didn’t have time to think. Another lie would have been the more sensible option.

  ‘It was Gerry. Gerry Guggenbuhl.’

  ‘Wha…? The stalker’s son? You’ve got to be shitting me,
Alice. You went to a football match with the son of your stalker? What the fuck?’

  I sucked in my lower lip. My eyes felt white-hot.

  ‘I didn’t know Oli was playing a match. It was a coincidence.’

  Oh. That sounded bad.

  I couldn’t think straight. I usually had time to devise the scenarios that were making up my whole life of lies, but the suddenness of Simon’s entrance had messed up my lines. I hadn’t had time to rehearse.

  ‘So, let me get this right. You’re meeting this kid in secret? What the hell were you doing?’

  ‘Not secret, Simon. I just hadn’t told you yet.’

  ‘And that’s not the same as keeping it secret?’ He raised his eyebrows.

  I wasn’t sure whether I preferred his sarcasm or his heated bewilderment. He turned and left the kitchen, took the stairs two at a time, and I heard the clunk of his shoes down the hallway to Oliver’s room. My mind went blank. All I could think about was that Simon hadn’t taken his shoes off. We didn’t do that. We all took our shoes off before going upstairs.

  Seconds later, I raced after him. The last thing I wanted was for Oliver to become involved in some whodunit game of finding out what Mum had been doing during her clandestine meetings with someone Dad thought had completely disappeared from all our lives.

  In the short time it took me to run up the ten stairs, I had a massive decision to make. There were secrets upon secrets it hurt to keep inside. I felt my guts rotting with the weight of them. Sometimes I wasn’t even sure what was truth and what was fiction any more. I had become as much of a pathological liar as the man who had stalked me for half a year. I wanted to lance the boil, spill the whole putrid truth in front of Simon. I wanted to be absolved of my wrongdoing.

  But if I told him the whole truth, I would implicate him in my actions to protect my family. I loved Simon enough to want to avoid doing that at all costs. He must never know the whole truth. Someone had to be around to look after the boys in case this whole thing went belly up.

  But how I was going to explain myself to Simon, right then, escaped me.