Bridge of Hope (16 page)

“I think it’s my chalkboard,” I said with a smile.

“Then in that case, you would be correct.”

She handed me the package and I ripped the paper off like an excited kid. I could feel her watching me for my reaction. She chewed nervously on a nail. As I stared at the beautiful board with its scrolled writing and smooth painted surface, a lump lodged in my throat. She’d made this for
me
. Me, the arsehole who always said the wrong thing. Me, the fucking idiot who’d made her cry. It just confirmed the type of person she was. One of a kind in the best possible way.

Steeling myself and clearing my throat, I was able to speak. “Mallory, Mallory, Mallory… it’s bloody brilliant!” I caught her letting out a breath. Her face relaxed into a beautiful smile. Still grinning I repeated myself, “Bloody brilliant! I love it!” I turned it around to show Ron, who beamed from ear to ear.

“Aye she’s a talented lassie, our Mallory.”

Mallory’s smile widened and my heart melted. I placed the board down and met her eyes. I had an overwhelming desire to pull her into my arms but wasn’t sure if I should. After staring at her and fidgeting awkwardly for a moment, I did it anyway. The softness of her breasts met the muscles of my chest and I closed my eyes, relishing the feeling of her curves against me. Realising I was liking it a little
too
much—if you know what I mean—I broke away and ran my hands through my hair, the heat of embarrassment setting my face afire.

“Um… I’d better go and… um… put this somewhere safe,” I mumbled, picking up the board and walking through to the back. I heard Mallory and Ron chuckling as I left. G
reat, now I’m a fucking laughingstock. Just great. P
lacing the board down, loosely rewrapped in the scraps of brown paper, I took a few deep breaths and calmed myself. The last thing she needed was for me to go back out there with a raging wood in my boxers. I was angry with myself that my body had reacted that way again. G
od, what she does to me! I’m supposed to be her friend, for goodness’ sake.
Once I was back to my normal self again, I went back through to the bar.

I clapped my hands together, making Mallory jump, and I couldn’t stop myself from laughing at her startled expression. Plastering as much seriousness on my face as I could, I said, “Okay, bar school lesson one…”

She picked up how to use the cash register very quickly and before long she was a dab hand at it. Shorts were a doddle too. I was impressed with how easy she was picking things up. Not that bar work is akin to rocket science, but she was a natural. Well, that was until it came to pulling a pint.

Showing Mallory how to pull a pint was not the easiest thing I’ve ever done. But it did make me laugh. She kept growling at her initial attempts and I had to fight to keep my face straight. Ron kept on shaking his head and rolling his eyes, which didn’t really help.

“Arrgh! Too much bloody froth,” she exclaimed at the glass of foam she’d placed on the bar.

“It’s called a
head
,” I informed her with a smirk.

Scowling at me, she tried again. This time the glass was filled to the brim with just beer. “Awww… not
enough
froth this time.”

“
Head
, Mallory.”

She laughed this time and I couldn’t help joining in. I showed her once more how to tilt the glass so that enough ‘froth’ formed on the top. Her next attempt was much improved, and so Ron and I gave her a round of applause, making her blush.

Despite their failure to look like proper pints, Ron eyed up the line of beers Mallory had pulled. I gestured for him to help himself, and his eyes lit up like he’d won the lottery.

It was time for her to get stuck in and start serving patrons. After serving the first lot of customers, she had a huge grin on her face and Ron and I applauded her again. Ron told her she was a natural, and you’d have thought he’d told her she’d won the lottery with the smile she wore for the rest of the night. Fitting in was clearly very important to her, and I was really pleased that I’d pushed her into the job.

Whilst Mallory served customers, it was time to try and put my plan into action. I went through to the back and spotted her bag. What I was about to do was something that, if I were caught, could get me into shitloads of trouble, but I justified it by telling myself I was doing it
for
Mallory. My heart thundered in my chest and I felt sure the whole bloody pub could hear it. I slipped my hand into her bag and grabbed her phone. Luckily it wasn’t locked with a code, and so I rifled through her contacts until I found Josie’s number. I quickly entered it into my phone and put hers back. I would ring Josie and get the other numbers I needed from her… hopefully—as long as she didn’t think I was some fucking crazed stalker. Shit. I hadn’t really thought it through.

At the end of the night I congratulated Mallory on a job well done, and she left the pub with a huge smile that I’d helped to put there. I was so proud of her for taking this step. She was brave to have accepted a new job in a new town with no one to go home and share things with, and I wished I could’ve told her so without it coming out like patronisation. But I kept my mouth shut just in case.

I was learning.

~~~

That night when I got home I gulped down a dram of Dutch courage and grabbed my phone. After dialling Josie’s number, I sat there drumming my fingers on my knee, waiting for her to answer.

“Hello?” She sounded confused. And then I realised that my number would have shown up with no name. Maybe I should’ve texted first.

“Erm… Hi, Josie?”

“Who is this?”

“It’s… it’s Greg, from Scotland. The bloke from the pub?”

“Oh. What’s up, Greg? Is Mallory okay?” I could hear the panic in her voice.

“Oh, aye. Yeah, she’s fine. Look, I’m ringing to ask you a huge favour.”

“Right. Okay, go for it.”

I took a deep breath and cleared my throat. “So… it’s Mallory’s thirtieth birthday next month, and you and I both know she’s had it rough lately. So I wanted to do something nice. I thought maybe a surprise party?”

“Really? You’d do that for Mallory?”

“Yes. She and I didn’t get off to the best start and… I really want to make it up to her.”

A sniffling sound came down the line. “That’s so sweet, Greg. Thank you.”

“Are you crying?” Yorkshire women and I were just a bad combination.

“A little. But only because I can’t quite believe how sweet you’re being. If I’m honest, I thought you were a grumpy-arsed sod at first, but… well, I take it all back.”

Charming! Although she did have a point. I’d kind of disappeared up my own arse since Mairi had died, so Josie and Mallory had only met the
me
that presented myself as just that. A grumpy arse.

I forced a laugh. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Sorry if I sounded harsh. So, what do you need from me?”

I went on to ask for a list of Mallory’s favourite songs, which Josie duly gave to me. I was thankful that she had such good taste and I wasn’t going to have to sit there and sing some bubble-gum boy-band shite. Next she gave me the number for Sam’s mother, Renee, in Canada and a list of Mallory’s favourite foods. The more we chatted, the giddier she got. But the next thing I had to ask stopped her joviality dead.

“You want me to do what?” The sound of incredulity wasn’t lost on me.

“I know it sounds like a shitty thing to do. But if she thinks you’re not coming, I can muscle in and make some fake arrangements to take her out for her birthday.”

“No way! You can’t ask me to call her up and upset her like that. What am I supposed to say?
Oh, hi, Mally, I’m your best friend in the whole world, but I’ve decided I can’t be arsed to come up for your first milestone birthday since Sam died
. Yeah, I’m sure that’ll go down really well.”

Okay, I’d pissed her off.

“I know it seems cruel, but think about it. If she knows you’re coming, she’ll want to make plans to stay in with wine and a takeaway or something. You’d never get her out of the house.”

She sighed. “You have a point, I suppose.”

“I do. And I promise she will know that
I
made you do it when this is all done. I promise you that, Josie.”

There was a silent pause, and I was sure she was going to tell me to fuck off. “Okay. I’ll do it. But I’ll have to ring her when she’ll be out. I can’t lie to her, Greg. She’ll be heartbroken.”

I silently thrust a triumphant fist into the air. “Like I said, it’s all for the right reason and she’ll know that it was
all
me.”

“Okay. But if she rings me sobbing, I’ll tell her everything,” she warned.

“She won’t. I’ll make sure you don’t have to lie for me.”

“Fine. Let me know if there’s anything else you need me to do. You know, kidnap Ruby, set fire to her photos, tell her she’s ugly.”

“Funny.”

“Hmmm. Bye, Greg.”

“Bye, Josie.”

“Oh, and Greg?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t have any expectations of her, okay? She needs
friends
right now. That’s all.”

“Josie, I can assure you my intentions are purely platonic. I just want to make her smile.”

“Okay.” She wasn’t convinced—it was clear in her voice. And if I was completely honest with myself, I wasn’t either.

Chapter Twenty-One

Armed with a list of Mallory’s favourite songs and musicians, I began to practise them as soon as I had some free time. Oasis, Neil Diamond, and Newton Faulkner amongst others. A
very
eclectic list and I loved that. It was fun to be learning new tracks, especially with the end goal in mind. I’d spoken to Renee and had secretly made arrangements for her Canadian family to come over. I was happy that they thought so highly of her that they would drop everything and jump on a plane like that. Things were going great, and I could hardly contain my excitement.

There was a week to go to Mallory’s birthday, and she was working the bar whilst I played my third gig. The second one had gone really well, and Mallory’s chalkboard had worked wonders. The third one was no different. The place was buzzing and I was quaking in my boots. Standing at the bar, I nervously guzzled down my drink. Cola. Singing on whiskey always dried my throat out.

Mallory watched me intently. “You look terrified. What’s up?”

“Ah, nothing. I always get like this before I go on. Goodness knows why. I’m a grown man.”

“Age has nothing to do with it. We all get nervous, Greg. You’ll be fine.” Her words of encouragement spurred me on and I took my place behind the mic. My nerves were a little calmer and I glanced over at Mallory as she smiled back at me with her thumbs up.

I returned her smile and then focussed my attention on the crowd. “Evening, all, anyone would think something was going on with all of youse turning up tonight. As always, I’ll steer clear of my own stuff—but be warned, one of these days I’m going to sneak one in when you’re not looking.” The folks in the pub laughed and I relaxed a little more. “Don’t forget, no singing along, it puts me off and youse lot can’t sing anyway.” The retorts and heckling made me laugh.

My first song was special. It was for Mallory. She and I somehow had forged a friendship, and it was a beautiful thing. “Right, this first song is a wee bit obscure, but I love it so tough. It’s by a band called Nirvana that takes me back to my younger days. I’d like to dedicate this to someone who I think I can now class as a good mate. This is ‘About a Girl’.”

I began to strum with my eyes closed and when I opened them and glanced over, Mallory was dancing and with a stunning smile on her face, and I felt amazing.

At the end of the night all I wanted to do was talk to Mallory and find out what she thought of my set, but I was swamped. A group of women of all ages caged me in. Asking for my autograph
and
my number. I was shocked. And flattered. Being treated like a rock star made a change from being seen as the grumpy git. When the ladies eventually let me be, I made my way over to the bar.

“Get you with your groupies,” Mallory joked when I stopped in front of her.

“Aye, they cannae resist,” I joked. “What did you think tonight, matey?”

She smiled but it was rapidly followed by a frown. “I thought it was a bit rubbish, really.”

Bollocks. That wasn’t what I wanted to hear
.

A grin pulled at her mouth. “God, for someone who doesn’t get offended easily, you get offended… easily!” She threw a bar towel at me. “You were fab as always, you numpty.” She was the only bloody person who’d ever rattled my cage that way, and it was a little disconcerting.

She said that she especially liked the Nirvana track, and I ribbed her about her young age. When I offered to walk her across home, she ribbed me about my groupies again, joking that they might lynch her if they saw us together. The banter we were sharing was fun. It was good craic, and ours was beginning to feel like a
real
friendship. Knowing this, however, had me worrying that she wouldn’t stick around and that I’d miss her terribly if she chose to leave.