‘We’re going to save a lot more than that,’ Graham said.
Rosie caught Mitchell’s eye. ‘My beloved has got something planned, but won’t tell me what it is. Can you give me a clue, Mitchell?’
‘I haven’t told him, so you’ll just have to wait,’ Graham said teasingly. He held up a large key ring full of lockpicks. ‘I’ve brought these along, and I’ll be onto those padlocks like vultures stripping a carcass.’
‘You’ve got this all planned out. I’m impressed,’ Mitchell said.
Graham nodded at him. ‘I learned from the master.’
Mitchell, Graham and Rosie moved stealthily through the back streets of the city. Rosie led the way, leading them through alleys Mitchell didn’t know existed. They witnessed an animated argument taking place in the back yard of a restaurant, and two teenage boys sharing a furtive cigarette. A stray dog nuzzled inside a pizza box, and a motorbike roared past them.
They rendezvoused with two men who stood with wheelbarrows at the end of a back street close to Redford.
‘This is Mason and Tony. Meet Mitchell, a great friend of mine,’ Graham said.
A man who had a scar running diagonally down his left cheek stuck out a huge hand. ‘Mason,’ he said gruffly.
Tony wore a grubby tracksuit with nothing underneath his top. His greasy hair shone in the darkness. He didn’t offer his hand but chewed minty gum and nodded an acknowledgement.
‘They’d do anything for me,’ Graham confided quietly to Mitchell. ‘Can turn their hand to everything, no questions asked. I’m glad they’re my friends rather than enemies. Wouldn’t want that.’
Mitchell gulped. ‘Good.’
Graham turned to Mason and Tony. ‘I’ve owed Mitchy Boy here a favour for years, and he’s calling it in. There’s a panel of padlocks on the redbrick bridge we want to clear off. We need to keep the locks intact, no cutting them off. Mitchell is on distraction duty and I’m on lockpicks with Mason. Rosie is keeping her eye out. Tony, you guard the barrows and be ready to move quickly when we need you. Everyone clear?’
The five of them nodded. The operation was underway.
The road signs were still in place across the mouth of the bridge, acting as a barrier so it was closed to the traffic. The streetlamps that usually illuminated the bridge were switched off, casting the pavement and road in dark shadows.
Rosie stayed close to the mouth of the bridge. She held on to a dog lead. ‘If I anyone asks, I can say I’m looking for my dog, who escaped his leash,’ she said.
Graham kissed Rosie on the cheek. ‘Now you can see why I’m marrying this woman.’
Mitchell smiled at the two of them and thought how perfect they were together. It had taken Graham a while to find his match, but he had got there in the end. When he recalled Barry’s words about getting back into the wild to meet someone, it didn’t seem such a scary prospect any longer. It was distinctly possible.
Mitchell’s palms were sweaty as he walked along the bridge with Graham and Mason.
‘Point out the panel, and we’ll do all the work,’ Graham said.
‘I’ll help.’
‘Let’s keep you out of this. You don’t want to lose your job.’
‘There’s no one around to see us.’
‘We can’t be too sure.’
Mason looked around him, lifting his chin high and low. ‘There might be security guys patrolling the city. Rosie will spot them.’
Mitchell pointed to the area of railing that Yvette’s lock was attached to behind the wire fencing. ‘It’s in the middle somewhere.’
‘As I said, we’ll get them all,’ Graham said.
‘What will you do with them afterwards?’
Graham laid a hand on Mitchell’s shoulder. ‘Don’t you worry about that. This is my favour to you. I’ll sort everything out.’
Mason stared at the padlocks and whistled through his teeth. ‘There’s a lot of them hanging there.’
‘Then let’s get started,’ Graham said.
Graham and Mason made light work of snipping through the fencing and squeezing through to the other side. Graham took out his picks and handed another set to Mason. They crouched and worked quickly, seeming to instinctively know which pick to use for which lock. They spread out a couple of blankets on the pavement, so there was no clatter of metal against the ground.
For forty-five minutes, Mitchell paced nervously up and down the bridge, looking out for any security guards. A police car sped towards him and its blue light swirled and siren screeched. He held his breath, readying himself for it to halt alongside him.
When it sped on past, he exhaled with a gush of relief.
His body grew limper when he saw a figure heading towards him. It was the man with the tufty black beard and he was holding a torch.
Mitchell tried to find a posture that was nonchalant and unsuspicious. ‘Oh, all right?’ he said.
The man shone his light at Mitchell. ‘You?’
‘Um, yes.’
‘I told you to keep away from that lock.’
Mitchell held up his hands. ‘I’m nowhere near it.’ He tried to speak calmly, though he felt light-headed. ‘I know I’m not allowed to remove it. I just wanted to walk over this bridge one last time, while most of the locks are still in place. I’m nostalgic like that. Sorry about earlier today, I know you’re just doing your job.’
The man crossed his arms, unconvinced.
‘Look, it’s my job to cut off the padlocks and when I saw the contractors, I grew anxious about losing my job,’ Mitchell chattered. ‘What are you doing here?’
The man shrugged. ‘Just checking out the bridges. It’s too darn hot in my apartment and I had to get out for a while.’
‘I know the feeling.’
Mitchell glanced over his shoulder to see Graham folding in the sides of one of the blankets. He could make out the dark mound of the padlock heaps. He grasped for something else to say to distract the man. ‘I have a daughter…’
‘Yeah?’ the man said. ‘How old?’
‘She’s nine and is Word Up crazy. That band has a lot to answer for, if you ask me.’
The man tutted and relaxed his arms. ‘Tell me about it. I mean, their hit was crap. My girl is eleven and loves it, though. I found out she’d got herself a bloody Instagram account to follow them. Friends of hers were on there already, posing and pouting. Eleven years old!’
‘People in this city have gone padlock crazy,’ Mitchell agreed.
As the two men found a common bond, a clattering noise sounded from the middle of the bridge.
The man looked over Mitchell’s shoulder and raised his torch. ‘Did you hear something?’
Mitchell swallowed. ‘Um, no.’
‘I’d better take a look.’
‘Stop—’ Mitchell called after him. He could see the crouched silhouettes of Graham and Mason.
As the man strode away, Rosie appeared in front of him, like magic. She held out her dog lead. ‘Have you guys seen my dog?’ She widened her eyes with worry, and rubbed her bump. ‘I can’t find him anywhere.’
Mitchell held his breath. He caught up with the man, who lowered his torch.
‘What type is he?’ The man alternated his gaze between Rosie and the middle of the bridge, where the noise came from.
‘A Dalmatian. You’d think it’d make him easier to spot.’
‘Lovely dogs, those are. I’ll take a look with you. I just need to go and—’
‘Ooh.’ Rosie stooped over and rubbed her belly. She peered down at her bump. ‘I think I felt something then.’
The man eyed her warily. ‘Are you okay? Should you be out walking your dog at this time of night?’
Rosie shook her head. ‘Probably not. I should get home. Could you take a look for my dog with me? Then I’ll go.’
‘Maybe call a cab. It looks like that baby could arrive at any time.’
Rosie circled her tummy again and pointed down the road. ‘Let’s try over here first?’
Mitchell jerked his head. ‘I’m heading back over the bridge. I’ll check everything looks okay on my way past.’
‘I’d appreciate that, mate,’ the man said.
Mitchell exhaled with relief as Rosie led the man away. He hurried over to the middle of the bridge where he found Mason and Graham still hunched over.
His friend looked up. ‘You gave me a fright then – thought we’d been caught.’
‘Rosie’s just headed someone off.’
‘We’re almost done, Mitchy. See you back in the alleyway in twenty minutes.’
Mitchell took the long way around, walking across Redford in the opposite direction and then towards the Yacht bridge.
Preparations for the opening event were being ramped up. A small stage was being erected with floodlights around it. A line of three white vans were parked up. Mitchell stood and watched the reflection of the moon rippling on the surface of the river. He wondered what Anita would say if she could see him here, dressed all in black and rescuing a padlock. But this time he couldn’t conjure up her copper curls and red coat in his mind. He saw Liza instead and he frowned, surprised.
What was she doing in his head?
A car horn sounded and, feeling flummoxed, he walked briskly away.
He made his way towards the alley as Graham had instructed until a noise came out of the darkness.
‘Pssst, over here.’ Mason beckoned him over. He pointed to where the two wheelbarrows were parked up, level full of locks. Graham kneeled down on the ground, sifting through a pile of them while Tony pointed a torch at his hands.
Mitchell gasped at the amount of them. ‘How many are there?’ From his daily counting, he reckoned there must be a few hundred. ‘How am I going to move them?’
‘I told you, Mitchy Boy,’ Graham said. ‘You don’t have to worry about anything. And, here it is, voilà.’ He held out a heart-shaped lock in the palm of his hand.
Mitchell peered at it in the darkness. ‘That’s not the right one,’ he said and crouched down to help his friend. ‘Yvette’s is bigger and shinier.’
‘Oh, okay.’ They worked their way through more of the locks. ‘How about this one?’ Graham said.
Mitchell saw the engraved words my heart is always yours glinting. His shoulders dropped, as if he’d slid into a hot bath at the end of a hard day. ‘That’s it,’ he said, his voice full of relief.
Graham handed it over to Mitchell, who wrapped his fingers around it. Although it was a cheap chunk of metal, in that moment it felt as precious as a diamond ring. Sheila could have Yvette’s lock. ‘Thank you.’
‘Glad to pay you back. I hope Liza will be happy.’
‘I think she will be.’ Mitchell pushed the padlock into his back pocket. ‘Where are you taking the rest of the locks?’
Graham tapped the side of his nose. ‘You’ll see soon enough.’ He picked a few padlocks off the ground and dropped them back into the wheelbarrows.
Tony and Mason heaved on the handles, turned the barrows around and wheeled them off down the dark alley without saying a word.
‘Later,’ Graham said to Mitchell. He and Rosie wrapped their arms around each other’s waists and stepped out of the alleyway back onto the road. ‘See you at our wedding, best man.’
It had gone past eleven o’clock when Mitchell got back to Angel House. The lobby was dark without Carl’s desk lamp turned on. There was a neat stack of papers and a set of origami hearts arranged in a line.
As Mitchell walked through the lobby, Carl appeared from the door to the basement. ‘Oh, Mr Fisher,’ he said. He stood upright and smoothed down his tie.
There was giggling and Susan emerged behind him. The two of them shared an embarrassed smile. ‘Susan was helping with my, um—’ Carl said.
‘Letter writing,’ she said quickly and nudged Carl in his side. ‘It’s going well.’
Carl blushed.
Mitchell smiled to himself and stepped towards the lift. ‘Good night to you both.’
‘Sorry, Mr Fisher, but it’s out of order again,’ Carl said. ‘I did tell Liza. Susan brought some more letters for you and I dropped them off with her.’
‘More of them?’
‘Only fifteen or so,’ Susan said with a smile. ‘That’s all. People in Upchester have really caught the letter-writing bug.’
‘It’ll all stop soon,’ Mitchell said with fresh understanding. ‘The new bridge will open and the padlocks on the old bridges are going to be removed. There’s a good story for you.’
Susan frowned at him. ‘I heard about that. What will happen to them all? Are they going to be destroyed? What about all the peoples messages?’
The same thoughts had also occurred to Mitchell. However, after lurking around on Redford tonight, and the effort it had taken to remove just one panel’s worth of locks, there was really nothing he could do about it.
‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘But I hope it takes people’s thoughts away from writing letters.’
After Mitchell had climbed the five flights of stairs and opened the door to his apartment, Liza met him in his hallway. She held her finger to her lips and pointed back over her shoulder. ‘Shhh, Poppy’s asleep. She dropped off an hour ago.’
‘Oh, okay,’ he whispered back. ‘Thanks for looking after her.’
Mitchell tiptoed after Liza into the sitting room where Poppy was curled up on the sofa. A small pile of letters lay by her feet.
‘We’ve been chatting about her project and playing board games. She plays a mean game of Monopoly.’
‘Did she make you read lots of letters?’
‘A few of them. Poppy was all excited about them at first, but then wanted to play instead. She’s given me a small stack of them to look at.’ She stifled a yawn. ‘Sorry, I’m a bit tired. Can I take them with me to read?’
‘If you don’t mind?’ he said.
‘Some of them are really touching, and the things people are willing to share with a stranger rather than their own spouse is enlightening.’ Liza looked down and frowned. ‘Oh look, your hands are all dirty…’
Mitchell pushed a hand into his pocket and held out Yvette’s padlock on his greasy palm. ‘My friend wanted to rescue more than just Yvette’s lock. Many more.’
‘You got it?’ Liza gasped. She took it from him and cupped it in both hands, as if it was water that might trickle away. ‘Thank you so much, Mitchell. It will mean so much to Mum, one less thing for her to fret about, and to me, too.’
There was a fragility in her voice that made Mitchell want to wrap his arms around her. He wanted to tell her that everything would be okay. Instead, he said, ‘I’ll wash my hands then call you a cab. The lift isn’t working again, so I’ll walk downstairs with you.’
She picked up her bag. ‘It’s okay, Carl said he’d hail a taxi for me. He knocked on your door earlier to drop off the letters and ask me lots of questions.’
Mitchell groaned. ‘That sounds like Carl. Please let me do this for you instead. I’ll only be a moment.’
Liza smiled at him. ‘Okay, I’ll wait.’
Mitchell checked on Poppy, who was sleeping soundly, and washed his hands in the bathroom to get rid of the grease. He phoned for a taxi, then walked with Liza downstairs.
When they reached the lobby, the area was deserted again. The main lights were still turned off but Carl’s lamp was now lit up. Mitchell picked up one of the origami hearts.
‘What’s that?’ Liza asked.
‘Carl makes things out of paper. He’s really talented.’ He handed the heart to her so she could see. ‘Here.’
She held it up and peered closely at it, before she held it to her chest. ‘Oh, it’s so pretty. I don’t want to squash it. Thank you,’ she said.
Mitchell hadn’t meant for her to keep it and wasn’t sure how to tell her this. A text message pinged through on his mobile to say that Liza’s cab was ready outside. He let the heart go and led the way to the entrance. They stood outside on the front step together, self-consc
iously, like the start of a dance when you don’t know how your partner is going to move.
‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘I’m making a habit of saying that to you.’
Liza tucked the letters under her arm. ‘I’ve enjoyed my evening and I really appreciate you retrieving Yvette’s padlock. You’re a star.’
The taxi driver gave an impatient pip of his horn.
Liza leaned in and kissed Mitchell on his cheek. Her hand rested gently on his upper arm.
He felt an unexpected trickle of calmness running through his body, as if he’d gone on holiday and just stepped off a plane into the hazy heat. He stood still, enjoying the sensation and not wanting it to end.
If he didn’t have a daughter, if he wasn’t bereaved, if he hadn’t shared a smile of connection with Yvette on the bridge – this might be a moment he’d invite Liza back up to his apartment for a coffee. His mouth felt dry and he had to swallow before he could say, ‘Good night.’
‘Night,’ she said in return, and got into the cab. ‘Thank you for the heart. I love it.’
Mitchell felt his stomach flip as she drove away. And, as he raised his hand to give her a late wave, he felt the lightest specks of rain on his fingertips.
22
Biscuits
A wind had started up and the grey sky seemed to press against the windows, making Mitchell’s bedroom feel darker and smaller. The sun skulked behind a dark cloud and the air in the apartment felt claggy and still.
At the breakfast table, Poppy slumped with tiredness after staying up late. She ate her muesli in silence, grunting at Mitchell’s questions about her school project.
He called Russ’s PA, Clarice, and explained he needed to take some more time off work to collect his tools. He also admitted he’d finished work early on a couple of other occasions. Embarrassingly, Clarice knew all about his accident and gushed that a couple of the girls in the office had been talking about him admiringly. Russ knew about his extenuating circumstances, and they came to an arrangement where Mitchell would use part of his annual holiday allowance to cover his impromptu time off, including the collection of his toolbox.
After escorting Poppy to school, Mitchell made his way across the city towards the address sent to him in the mysterious text message. He wondered why the person had reported their own brother.
The Secrets of Sunshine Page 18
