Bridge of Hope (5 page)

As night fell, the temperature plummeted, and I sat myself on the little rock facing the craggy mountain where I’d met my true love a few years before. I pulled the flask of whiskey from my coat pocket and unscrewed the lid. I took a long pull and gulped it down. The moon was clear and bright, and it cast the most wonderful spotlight on my mountain.

Our
mountain.

The night was cold but peaceful, and I stared upwards at the starry sky that surrounded the summit like a crown of diamonds. Was she up there, in the heavens, watching me? If she was, that would be the cruellest kind of torture. The familiar lump lodged in my throat, and tears began to trickle down my unshaven cheeks; the moisture left cold trails in its wake, but I didn’t much care.

There was a sense of calm around the place. I felt at home despite my melancholy. Mairi and I had camped under the bridge a couple of times, and it had become a special place for me. I felt her there. It was like she was some otherworldly presence wrapping herself around me and comforting me.

The trouble was, whenever I came here I didn’t want to leave.

Eventually I began to yawn, and so Angus and I made our way under the bridge to shelter. The big ball of fluff snuggled up to me under the blankets as if he understood that I needed him, and I eventually wept myself to sleep.

My dreams weren’t as traumatic when I was here. I’d be sitting on the rock, playing Rhiannon as Mairi watched, her head on one side as she swayed to whatever romantic mush I was playing for her. Oftentimes, I’d dream of taking her in my arms after night had fallen, and we’d make love in the car before making our way down to the underside of the bridge to sleep. Those dreams were a double-edged sword. Waking up was a cold slap in the face from reality when I realised I was alone again.

~~~

Just as the sun was coming up, my eyes fluttered open. My body clock was attuned to this place. Sunrise was by far my favourite time of day here. Angus stood and stretched, and I grabbed the fleece blanket we’d been curled up under. We followed the trail back up to the road to my favourite little rock so I could sit and watch the sun come up. Angus sat beside me and laid his head on my fleece-covered legs. The orange and golden hues of the sunrise cast an ethereal glow over the mountain, and I sat in silence as more and more of the jagged rock face became illuminated.

Simply breathtaking.

Once again I was taken back to times when it was Mairi and me sitting here. Me on the rock and her between my legs, head resting on my chest as we watched the changing colours of the morning. Just thinking that I would never do that with her again brought the anger and sadness bubbling to the surface once more. I’d cried so much in the months since she’d gone that it was a wonder there were any tears left.

When the latest stream of tears had subsided and the sun was fully risen, Angus and I enjoyed a tin of some breakfast concoction that didn’t taste half bad. We walked for a while and played fetch again. This time Angus’s large stick fetish sent him tumbling into the freezing stream that ran toward the river. I laughed loud and unabashed for the first time in a long while, and it felt good.

Mad bloody dog.

Once we were back in the car, however, and all’s I could smell was stinky, wet dog, I glanced up at the guitar-shaped air freshener that Mairi had bought me. My laughter dried up. “Fat lot of fucking use you are now you’ve lost your smell,” I told the inanimate object and then rapidly questioned my sanity. It was one thing to talk to a dog—but an air freshener? Yep, I was losing the fucking plot!

~~~

When we arrived back in Clachan Seil and crossed the bridge over the Atlantic, I spotted a removals van down by James McLaughlan’s cottage. His furniture was being carried out and loaded into the van. That meant the new folks would be moving in any day now and I had mixed feelings about that. More tourists were good for my business and the pub, but if they were only here for weekends, would they take the time to get to know people? Or would they simply use the house as a base to travel from? The village had always been a close-knit community and it saddened me that it could be about to change. Not a lot I could do about it, really.

I pulled up outside the pub and made my way over to see if I could help. James was there directing the younger men, and clearly he was having a hard time watching his cottage become nothing but a shell.

“Now then, James. How’s it going, old pal?” I asked as I grasped the old guy’s wizened hand in a warm handshake.

His face lit up. “Gregory, my boy. It’s good to see you. How are you keeping?”

I shrugged. “Oh… you know, getting by.”

His smile disappeared and he shook his head sadly. “I was so sorry to hear about your wee girl. Such a tragedy. Such a waste of a young life.” He squeezed the hand he held and patted it with his other.

His compassion made my eyes sting.

I cleared my throat in order to speak. “Aye, James, it certainly was.”

“Are you coping okay? Are you getting any support?”

His concerned gaze made my stomach knot up.
Such a nice old guy.

Nodding in what I hoped was a reassuring manner, I told him, “I’m… I’ll be fine, James. Don’t you worry about me, eh? You’ve spent years doing things for others, so go and be looked after. Enjoy your retirement, my friend.”

The old guy pulled me into a hug. “You take care, Gregory. And someday, let yourself fall in love again, eh?”

I chewed the inside of my cheek at his earnest words, and I nodded, unable to utter further words of my own.

Seeing the number of helpers around the place, I figured I’d only be in the way, and so I left them to it and made my way back to the Landy.

James’s comment about falling in love again rattled around my head. At that moment in time I felt sure that it just wasn’t possible. The tattoo scars had healed, but they were surface wounds I had inflicted upon myself. The real scars—the emotional ones—surely wouldn’t be so quick to heal. I shook my head to try and dislodge the thoughts of new love from my mind. It was time I got used to my own company again. I wasn’t sure my heart could take any more.

Chapter Seven

April saw the beginning of warmer weather, albeit rainy, and the eight and a half months since I’d lost Mairi still seemed like mere days to me. I still thought about her all the time and I was still plagued by the relentless nightmares. It seemed nothing was going to ease the pain except whiskey.

There had been comings and goings down at James McLaughlan’s old place, and I was intrigued to meet the couple who’d bought it. To get the measure of them, so to speak.

I saw the large van pull up down by the house and watched as the men began to load the furniture in. Classy stuff. The new owners liked their artwork, judging by the wrapped canvasses that were being carefully handled by the removals men. I purposefully walked Angus by the cottage, hoping to get a glimpse of the interlopers, but other than the men in work pants and logo’d T-shirts, I spotted no one.

Typical.

On my way past, Colin, from the shop, called me over.

I jogged over to where he stood in the doorway of the little grocery store. “What’s up?”

He looked frustrated. “I thought I could fix it myself, but it turns out the tap is a little more than I can maybe handle. If you get a chance, can you come and take a look?”

“Sure thing, Col. I’m not sure when it’ll be. Can you manage for a wee while with it?”

“I can. It’s just driving Chrissy mad with its drip-dripping.”

I smiled. “I can imagine. Hey, do you know anything about the people who’ve bought James’s old place?”

He scratched his head. “Not a thing. It’s all been a bit quiet over there. I see they’re moving in. I guess we’ll soon find out, eh?”

“True enough. Right, well, I’d better get Angus home. I’m due at the pub in a while.”

I waved and set off back to my house with Angus trotting ahead. After opening the front door and following the dog inside, I checked my appearance in the hall mirror. Faded grey T-shirt and faded jeans to go with my faded mood.

The pub was quiet, which was a blessing. I wasn’t in the mood for being chatty. Not with strangers anyway. Ron and I had been putting the world to rights until he said something that sparked off a memory of Mairi and I sunk back into my own head again. All’s he’d said was that his granddaughter who he rarely saw was coming up to twenty-one years old and she had the most beautiful red curly hair and green eyes. That combination brought images of my girl to the forefront of my mind; her curls bouncing and her laughter ringing out through the air as I chased her along the beach before taking her in my arms. I rubbed my hands over my face as I felt the colour drain away.

Fuck, would it ever stop?

Would it ever get any easier?

Ron continued trying to chat to me and show me photos of his family, of whom he was so proud, despite the distance between them; but I had no interest and my ability to converse regressed as the day went by.

The lunchtime rush wasn’t really a rush, and I ended up spending most of the day chatting to Ron. Well, I say
chatting
. Grunting as he talked
at
me was more the case. It wasn’t his fault that I’d been having a bad couple of days. It happened every so often. Who am I kidding? It was a daily occurrence. Getting Mairi out of ma head was something I only managed to do temporarily with the help of whiskey; but I always ended up feeling like shit, so I was doing my best to just get on with life lest I stumble into alcoholism.

Getting on with my life. Hmmm.

Because that’s what you do isn’t it? When you lose someone. You say goodbye. You grieve and then you move on. Except I was having real trouble with that last part on account of the part before that. The fact that I’d never said goodbye. I hadn’t been able to. And that unavoidable fact still tore at my heart all these months later. The unknown was such a scary entity.

She’d always tried to get me to go with her on her expeditions. I’d done a few climbs, but I can’t say I enjoyed them all that much. I was in no way experienced nor fit enough to go to K2.

If I’d been there I’d be dead now too.

Sobering thought, really.

~~~

I heard the pub door creak open and slam shut and so I turned, still wiping a glass.

Fuck
.

My heart did this funny flip in my chest and I gulped.

She was fucking
gorgeous
. Long, dark, wavy hair, the sexiest curves and big, bright eyes. She smiled at me and I swear my heart stopped beating. I’d never seen a smile quite like it. Well, not since Mairi. My insides began churning and I
hated
that. I immediately found her attractive. But… it wasn’t the same as the way I’d found the blonde attractive recently.

This was different.

Not good
. N
ot good at all.

Too soon
.

I gritted my teeth and took a deep breath. I didn’t like my body’s response to her. The hairs at my nape stood to attention, and I could swear I felt my fucking pupils dilate. What a stupid fucking reaction. I didn’t know her from Adam, for fuck’s sake. Good thing this was a tourist area and there was a good chance she’d be gone quickly and I’d never see her again.

I made my way over to where she’d perched herself on a bar stool, and I leaned on the bar in front of her; my arms rigid and locked. Her eyes were vivid blue and crystal clear. I could’ve fallen right in and drowned. Instead, I plastered on a surly expression. My aim was to be intimidating. Don’t ask me why. I think it was maybe a self-defence mechanism. But let’s face it, it wasn’t
her
fault I wanted to jump over the bar and ravage the poor woman.

“What can I get you?” Ouch, my voice came out like a growl. She flinched a little. I felt like a complete arse.

“Erm… can I just have a diet cola, please?” she whispered. Yep, I’d scared her.

Well done, McBradden, you fucking moron
.

I should’ve apologised for my shitty attitude but instead I just turned and walked away like the callous bastard I’d become. I could see her watching me in my peripheral vision. Her eyes travelled up and down my body. T
hat’s not fucking helping, lady
.

I walked back over and slammed her drink down.
Idiot. W
hat was wrong with me? Seriously? “One eighty.”
Well, I might as well continue being a dick. No point giving up now, eh?
I took the English five-pound note she held out and rolled my eyes.
Again, idiot. They are bloody legal tender, so what’s my fucking problem? Poor lass is English, after all. Probably only just arrived and hasn’t acquired any Scottish ones yet!
She held out her hand and I gave her the change.

She cleared her throat “I-erm-that is
we
… are new here.” This time she sounded more confident. Her voice was kind of… musical.
Beautiful.
“We’ve bought one of the cottages just by the water.”