Bridge of Hope

by Lisa J. Hobman

  “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.” I laughed, but I’d said it in all seriousness. There’s nothing worse than hearing that inane bloody mumbling that people make when they try to sing along with something they don’t really know. It’s ridiculous and highly embarrassing; cringe-worthy, even. Plus the fact that if there’s someone on a stage performing, it’s his job. So shut the fuck up, I say!

  “It’s a little number I like to call ‘Trouble’… because that’s its name.” Another rumble of laughter, but this time I felt like a dick. Stupid fucking thing to say. “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 place roared with laughter yet again. Fuck me. I was quite funny really. A smile took up residence on my ugly mug and I felt just a tiny bit happy.

  Chapter Ten

  The night was going swimmingly. Being applauded sent shivers of excitement down my spine and I decided then and there that I’d be doing it again. I took a long gulp of my beer as I scanned the room. After placing my glass back down, I began to play the introduction to one of my all-time favourite songs. The singular notes played in a staccato rhythm rang out through the room as people fell silent. Clearly it wasn’t just me that liked it.

  I sang the opening line of “Chasing Cars” by Snow Patrol. The hush that had fallen on the room was broken by the scraping of a chair and fumbling noises. I glanced up in the direction of the noise just as Mallory shoved her way through the crowd and made a dash for the door. What the fuck? Maybe the long-haired beauty had drunk a little too much. I couldn’t blame her. It’s not like I’d been sober since Mairi’s death.

  As I sang, her friends dashed out after her. Concern etched on their faces as they flung open the door and ran out of the pub. Shit. Maybe she’s sick. I carried on playing but an uneasy knot returned to my stomach. Maybe she wasn’t used to the alcohol and it’d affected her badly. I vowed I would go over tomorrow and check up on her.

  At the end of the night the crowd congratulated me and shook my hand. The compliments were flying. You should have been playing here for ages, Greg… You’re a natural, Greg… You have the sexiest voice, Greg. It was quite an ego boost. But it was all overshadowed by a niggling in my gut. Was Mallory okay? Why did I care so much? Okay, so we shared something in common, grief. But I didn’t know her and she didn’t like me. It was stupid to feel so concerned about someone I’d only just met. But for some reason I couldn’t stop thinking about her.

  I arrived home and made myself a cup of coffee. Probably not the best idea, since caffeine so late at night was bound to exacerbate my sleeping issues. But I wasn’t tired anyway. Images of Mallory crying came to mind; the way her limp body huddled into me as I carried her to the car; the way she sobbed silently when we shared those few words of conversation; her running out of the pub without looking back. There must’ve been a valid reason for her speedy retreat from the pub tonight, and I needed to know that she was alright. That got to me though. I didn’t simply want to know. I needed to know.

  At around two in the morning I said goodnight to Angus and climbed the stairs to my bedroom. After stripping free of my clothes, I climbed into bed. I should’ve showered first, but I figured the sooner I got to bed the sooner I could get up and go around to check on the Yorkshire lassie.

  Just as I’d anticipated, sleep didn’t grant me the pleasure of its company for quite a while. Instead I tossed and turned. Churning the possibilities around in my mind for Mallory’s earlier quick exit, I narrowed it down to five:

  1) She was sick

  2) She hated my singing

  3) She was drunk

  4) She was drunk and sick

  5) She was drunk, sick and my singing made it worse.

  Fuuuuck! I slammed my fists back into the mattress. When I did eventually fall into a fitful sleep, I was plagued by the image of Mallory on her knees on the beach again. My heart broke as I ran toward her, pain-filled sobs ringing in the silent night air.

  I awoke with a start.

  ~~~

  Once I’d showered and dressed, I jumped in the Landy with Angus and drove down to the village. I parked across from the pub and dropped Angus in with Stella. She took him out the back and gave him some leftover steak. His tail wagged frantically and no bloody wonder. He was better fed than I was.

  “I’ve just… erm… got something to do, okay? Be back soon,” I informed her. Leaving the pub, I paused and took in a deep breath with my head back, letting the morning sunlight warm my face. Courage, McBradden. Just walk over, knock on the door, ask how she is, and then leave. Simple. My feet began to move and before I knew it I was knocking on Mallory’s front door with a pounding heart and sweating palms.

  The door opened and there stood the petite blonde friend who was called Josie or Jodie or something like that.

  She frowned. “Oh, hi. What are you doing here?”

  I twisted the Landy keys in my hand. “I came to check up on Mallory. I saw her run out last night and was worried she was sick or something.” I nervously ran my hand through my hair as the moths in my stomach set about beating their wings.

  “Oh, yes, of course. Thanks.” Her expression saddened a little. “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.”

  As if I were on the world’s biggest roller coaster, my stomach fell and my heart tripped over itself. “Oh my God. No fuckin’ wonder she ran out.” I felt like utter shit. The poor wee girl. I covered my face with my free hand and exhaled all the air from my lungs. Words suddenly escaped me and I found myself floundering in front of this total stranger. “Please… fuck, oh I’m sorry to swear, but fuck. Please tell her I’m so, so sorry. Fuck. What a fucking idiot!”

  She held out her hands toward me in reassurance. A wasted gesture. “Hey, Greg, you weren’t to know. Honestly, don’t beat yourself up, eh?”

  “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Oh, God sorry, my language.” I covered my mouth as if doing so would stop my verbal diarrhoea.

  A voice travelled through from somewhere inside the house. “Don’t worry, mate, Josie has said much worse.”

  Brad’s attempt at putting me at ease didn’t help any either. I shook my head. “Every time I see that girl, I put ma fuckin’ size ten in my mouth. 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?” I turned to go but looked back over my shoulder to see pity in the blonde’s eyes. “Seriously, please tell her I’m so sorry. I’ll be keepin’ out of her way, I reckon.”

  “That won’t be necessary, Greg, honestly. You weren’t to know.” Her eyes told me she genuinely didn’t blame me. But I did. As I walked away swearing at myself, I decided that I really needed to just lay off and stay away from her. Not only had I been a shit to her that first day, but I’d upset her friends and broken her heart with a fucking song. Not bad going for a few weeks’ work. Better not walk under any fucking ladders, McBradden. Karma is a bitch.

  Chapter Eleven

  Thinking about Karma got me thinking back to Alice. I suppose now would be a good time to tell you that fucking twisted story, eh? I met Alice at college. It was 1993.

  Alice Gibb was sex on legs. Long blonde hair, killer curves, big brown eyes, lush breasts… don’t judge me, I am a man after all. Anyway, I was only nineteen and she was every teenage bloke’s wet dream. Sorry for my crude turn of phrase but… aww, who the fuck am I kidding? You’ve already figured out what I’m like, eh?

  I keep digressing… sorry.

  So, I was attracted to her instantly, but so was every other guy at college. I thought I was uber cool with my long hair and my grunge attire. I absolutely idolised Eddie Vedder from Pearl Jam, Dave Grohl from Nirvana, and Chris Cornell from Soundgarden. I was a real grunger. Checked lumberjack shir
ts, band tees, and combat boots. I used to walk around campus with my headphones on as some American rock, indie, or suchlike screeched out of my CD Walkman. Fuck, showing my age now, eh?

  We were taking completely different subjects. I was music, she was textiles. She was going to be the next Vivienne Westwood and I was going to be the next Jimmy Page. To say we both had delusions of grandeur would be an understatement. I got chatting to her one lunchtime…

  1993

  “Can you pass me a can of Diet Coke, please?” came a sweet voice from beside me. I looked to my right and met the big brown eyes of the girl I’d been staring at for the past few months. She was even fucking hotter up close. Long blonde waves that fell past her shoulders. Large, perky breasts and big hips. She wasn’t fat. Far from it. She was luscious in that Marilyn Monroe way. Every guy in college had been ogling her from day one and I was no different.

  “Oh, yeah, sure.” I reached for a can and passed it back to her. She smiled and blushed. Too fucking cute for words.

  She scrunched her face. “You’re Gregory, aren’t you?”

  She knows who I am? I gulped in disbelief and must’ve looked ridiculous opening and closing my mouth like a fucking goldfish.

  “Yeah. That’s… that’s me.” I nodded emphatically as heat rose in my cheeks.

  “You play guitar, don’t you?” she asked with her head to one side and a playful look in her eyes. I nodded again. Come on, fucking stupid mouth, work! Despite my chastising myself, intelligent words wouldn’t form.

  Tilting her head to the other side, she bit her lip for a moment. “I think guitarists are hot.” And with that she got up and walked away, glancing over her shoulder and almost electrocuting me with a killer smile.

  “Oy! Are you moving or what?” came an angry voice to the side of where I was apparently superglued to the floor in the lunch line.

  My head swivelled around to the pissed-off guy. “Aye. Sorry, mate. Sorry.” I shuffled on.

  Later that same day I was walking back to my digs when someone behind me shouted my name. I stopped and turned around. It was her.

  “Wait. God, you walk fast.” She panted.

  “Sorry, I was just on my way home.”

  “Want some company?”

  “Sure. Yeah. You not going home yoursel’?”

  “Na’. Not yet. Thought I’d come and see where you live first.” She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth again. All the blood in my body rushed south, and I hoped to God she couldn’t see what was happening down there.

  “So, Gregory—”

  “Call me Greg, all my friends do.”

  A wide smile spread across her stunning face. “So, Greg, do you have a girlfriend?”

  “Girlfriend? Me? Erm… no.”

  “Would you like one?” Fuck, she certainly isn’t backward at coming forward, that’s for sure.

  Feeling a little braver, I smiled back. “You offering?”

  “I’d have to get to know you better first,” she replied.

  “Sounds good to me.” I couldn’t quell the shit-eating grin that had taken up residence on my ugly mug.

  And that’s how the thing started.

  January 1994

  We were all going out around Oban. There were a few clubs that played great music, and a gang of us decided we’d go out and get pissed, have a laugh, do some dancing, you know?

  I called for Alice around seven thirty. She opened the door to her room and there she stood, short, tight black skirt, thick black stockings, muckle clumpy boots—sounds crap, but believe me, she looked fucking hot as hell—and a tie-dyed cropped top. Her black leather jacket finished off the ensemble nicely. My mouth fell open. I wanted to shove her back on the bed and get her out of the silly clothes that were in my way, but as if reading my mind she shook her head and wagged her finger at me.

  “Not yet, Mr McBradden. You’ll get yours later tonight.” Once again, a sudden rush of blood to my favourite organ. By the way, sex with her was amazing. I had nothing to compare it to—her being my first—but oh wow, I didn’t care. She was horny as anything and couldn’t get enough. Which was fine with me.

  We arrived at Club Zero and met with the rest of our group of friends. Some had been there awhile and were already on their merry way to pissed-up land. I grabbed us a couple of drinks from the bar and we made our way over to the group. “Fade Into You” by Mazzy Star played over the PA system, and I watched Alice sway to the music with her eyes closed. She was so incredibly sexy in everything she did.

  And she knew it.

  The song ended and we drank a little more. Her eyes were glazing over and she was totally relaxed. The next song was the Cowboy Junkies version of “Sweet Jane”. It was a song that Alice and I had made love to on more than one occasion. We were on the dance floor together and with her back to me she ground herself into me as we swayed to the music. A guy appeared in front of her and started dancing with her like I was fucking invisible. I clenched my jaw as I watched her respond to him. She turned her back to him and faced me. I grimaced at him, hoping the words “Yeah, fuck you, pal” were clear in my face. But to my utter fucking shock, she lifted her arms up, letting them fall behind her head, and draped them around his neck.

  With her eyes fixed on mine she ground her arse back into him as I watched. My heart rate picked up and my hands balled into fists by my sides. I clenched my jaw. This was our fucking song. What was she playing at? The guy leaned down and began to kiss her neck as she closed her eyes for a moment. I stopped moving my feet and raised my clenched fists, ready to fly at him. When her eyes opened, she licked her lips at me. The bastard lifted his hand and ran it up her top, grabbing her breast. What the fuck? Confusion and anger washed over me in equal measures. Why was she doing this? She fixed her hooded gaze on me as he fondled her and my nostrils flared.

  I was ready to kill him.

  Two can play this game, lady. I grabbed the brunette that was dancing beside me and had desperately been trying to get my attention for the last twenty minutes. I put my arms around her, slid my hands down to her arse and squeezed. She gazed up at me and slipped her arms around my shoulders. I glanced over at Alice, who was frowning now. Ha! Not liking the taste of your own medicine, eh? She turned around and stuck her tongue down the guy’s throat and I just about hit the fucking roof.

  Without thinking, I shoved the brunette aside, lunged forward, and punched the bastard in the face; knocked him out cold. After that I stormed out of the place. I’d had enough. I just couldn’t figure her out. I thought we meant something.

  I heard footsteps behind me and someone grabbed my arm. I swung around and was met with an angry stare. “What the fuck was that in there, Greg?” she shouted in my face.

  “I could ask you the same fucking question! What were you doing?” I shouted back, raising my hands in exasperation.

  “I wanted you to watch, Greg. I wanted you to see that other men find me attractive. You’re so fucking into your music that you ignore me! Well, you won’t do that again, will you?” A manic grin appeared on her face. What the hell was wrong with her?

  “I don’t want to watch you with another fucking man. What kind of sick pervert do you think I am, eh?”

  Her laughter was filled with derision. “Oh, come on, Greg. Don’t be such a prude.”

  “What man would want to see that? You’re my girlfriend, Al, not his.”

  At that her eyes widened. And then out of nowhere she drew her hand back and punched me. A right hook to my left cheek. I staggered backwards, holding my face.

  She lurched toward me angrily. “You don’t own me, Greg. I’m not an object. I’m a person. Don’t ever act like I belong to you again. If I want to dance with another man, I’ll do it.”

  I stood there open mouthed as she rubbed her hand and began to cry. For some unknown reason I felt sorry for her. She was insecure even though I’d never given her reason to be.

  I pulled her into my arms and held her tight. “Hey, come on. What’
s all this about, Al? Eh?”

  She sobbed into my chest and clung to my shirt. “I wanted your attention. That’s all. You’ve been spending so much time playing with the guys that I felt neglected. I wanted to teach you a lesson.”

  My face crumpled in confusion and I pulled away to gaze into her bloodshot eyes. “Alice, you’ve been at every jam session with me when I’ve been playing. I haven’t been ignoring you at all.”

  “But… I want you to myself sometimes.” She hiccupped.

  I stroked her hair back from her face and kissed her. My cheek was throbbing and I was a little freaked out by what had just happened, but I put it down to the drink.

  Sadly it wasn’t the only time she struck me in anger. But for some reason unbeknownst to me, I put up with her temper. I think I kidded myself that I loved her. The next big blow, however, wasn’t a physical one.

  We’d been together two years…

  June 1995

  There was a knock on the door to my room and I threw down my pen. I’d been trying to compose a song for the band I was setting up with my best mate, Connell, but my head was filled with cotton wool thanks to a serious lack of sleep. I wasn’t expecting anyone and almost decided to ignore the intrusion. But the person knocked again, softly this time, and I went and answered it.

  Alice stood in the doorway, her eyes were red rimmed and she twisted a tissue in her hands. I inhaled sharply. “Hey, what’s wrong, babe?”

  “Oh, Greg, I’m so sorry.” She flung her arms around my neck and sobbed into my T-shirt. I lifted her from the ground and walked into my small room. Placing her on the bed, I sat beside her, moving my notes out of the way.