Under the Bridges (11 page)

If only he could make her laugh more, he thought. That serious, earnest side—that wasn't really Shona.

She was still smiling as he brought the coffees to the table.

‘Biscuits?' he said. ‘I brought some I thought you'd like.'

Shona unwrapped a chocolate bar, and sipped her coffee.

‘Do you—' He paused, thinking it sounded a bit hackneyed. ‘Do you often go out of an evening?'

‘Sometimes.'

Shona bit her lip, remembering the date with Mark when he hadn't appeared.

‘Well, if you'd like,' he said, not looking directly at her, ‘we could do this some other
time.
I'm a great film fan, as you probably gathered, and it's nice to have someone to share it with—someone who's a fellow enthusiast.'

‘Yes, I'd like to, only you must let me pay my own ticket next time.'

Walter shook his head.

‘Certainly not. I'm glad you enjoyed the evening.'

Shona realised that talking about films, feeling comfortable and at ease in Walter's presence, she hadn't thought about Mark at all.

‘Unless, of course,' Walter stirred his coffee, ‘your boyfriend would object.'

‘He's not my boyfriend,' she said firmly. ‘I found out he wasn't the person I thought he was. So I chucked him!'

She grinned and Walter was gratified to see she'd lost that tense look he'd noticed before. Her eyes sparkled and she looked so carefree.

* * *

Shona began talking about going to the pictures with her grandmother.

‘We really got our money's worth. We'd often see a film twice round.
The Way to the Stars
,
This Happy Breed
. . .' she remembered affectionately.

‘You miss her,' Walter said gently.

‘Yes.' Shona paused. ‘But I see now that she
would
have had to move from the cottage. It wasn't the fault of the authorities—they didn't deliberately try to put her out of her home. I think,' she went on thoughtfully, ‘that it was time she moved out, so I don't feel bitter or angry about it any more.'

‘I'm glad about that,' Walter said.

‘I've been a bit hard, blaming you,' Shona said in a rush, ‘and it really wasn't anything to do with you. And now—well, the memories I have of Gran are happy ones.'

‘I'm sure that's the way she'd want it.'

Walter reached across the table and for a moment laid his hand on top of Shona's.

They were silent for a moment, then Shona said, ‘We'd maybe better go. They'll be closing soon.'

‘It's been fun,' she said lightly, as they reached home.

‘I enjoyed it too.'

As Shona climbed the stairs, Nancy appeared

‘Have a good evening?' she said.

‘Oh yes, it was a great picture.'

That night Shona remembered how Walter had held her arm crossing the road, how he'd turned to her sharing the comic moments in the film, how he'd laid his hand on hers for that moment or two. How nice, how reassuring he was, and how happy she felt . . .

* * *

Shona
looked out of her bedroom window at the familiar outline of the road bridge. Not long now till it was officially opened by Her Majesty the Queen. She noticed too the ferryboat, the
Queen Margaret
, leaving the pier. There would be lots of changes, she thought—not just for Joe and the others on the ferries, but for all the men who'd worked on the bridge.

Before long, Walter would be gone, on to another job.

‘It has to come to an end,' she told herself firmly. Oh, it had been fun—the outings with Walter, the visits to the pictures, the walks. How easily they got on together, she thought, after such a shaky start. They shared the same interests—trips along the coast to Crail and St Andrews—and spent many evenings at the pictures.

Walter was such good company, thought Shona. But—she glanced at the bridge—in only a few short months, it would be finished. And then? And then Walter would move on, and would forget her. I've been let down once, she thought, and it's not going to happen again . . .

She remembered especially that spring day just a few weeks ago when they'd gone, to Dunfermline on his half-day.

Of course she had known the town well—since childhood—but now she'd enjoyed
showing
Walter her favourite places—the Abbey, Andrew Carnegie's birthplace, and especially the Glen, as people affectionately called Pittencrieff Park.

Walter had looked around appreciatively.

‘What's that?' he said as they heard a loud screech.

‘Just one of the peacocks. Look, there he is . . .'

They stopped to admire the bird with its vivid plumage as it pecked its way across the path, looking for food.

‘People give them peanuts,' Shona said. ‘They're always hungry. They sort of belong to the Glen and you can hear them right down in Monastery Street—people say if you can hear the peacocks, that means the wind has changed and there's going to be rain.'

‘So they're a weather forecast in themselves.' Walter grinned.

They explored the Glen—the afternoon was quiet and they had the park almost to themselves.

‘I love the hothouses,' Shona said. ‘When I was small and came here with Gran, I specially liked the one that has tropical plants. It was so hot and steamy I'd close my eyes and imagine I was in the jungle.'

Walter laughed.

‘More comfortable than the real thing!'

‘Of course, you've been all over the world,' Shona said. ‘The tropics, too?'

Walter
nodded.

‘You wouldn't believe the wildlife. The first time I saw humming birds, I couldn't believe what I saw, the colour was so vivid. And the tropical storms. Everything seemed so much brighter once the storm was over. I remember once driving through an African village after a storm and there right in front of us was a sheet of yellow.'

Shona looked puzzled.

‘Butterflies,' he explained. ‘Yellow butterflies. It must have been something to do with the weather conditions—amazing.'

Shona's eyes shone.

‘It sounds wonderful. Oh, I'd like to travel—I've been on holidays abroad, and that's fun, but to go to such remote places . . .'

‘It can be uncomfortable and difficult at times,' Walter said, ‘but it's worth it. I think so anyway Shona . . .' He reached out and took her hand.

Suddenly their closeness seemed to be broken, as Shona drew away. Of course he was longing to go back to the life he knew. This had just been an interlude.

The rest of the day had been a little awkward. When they got back to the Mackays', Shona thanked Walter politely.

‘We must go out for a day again soon,' he said.

‘That would be nice,' Shona said a little coolly.

Walter
gave her a sharp glance.

‘Are you all right?'

‘Perfectly,' she said. ‘It's been a lovely afternoon. Thank you.'

Walter looked puzzled by her formality.

Something was wrong. Was it something he'd said? Oh well—whatever it was, she would come round.

Upstairs, Shona took off her jacket and scarf, and glanced in the mirror. She didn't notice her face was flushed with the afternoon's sunshine and her eyes were bright. But it took all her resolve to remember what she had decided.

In a few months Walter would be gone. He wouldn't remember the lovely day they'd spent in the Glen in the warm sunshine.

I'm not going to let myself fall in love, she thought. From now on, we'll be friends—but distant friends.

* * *

‘There's a phone call for you, Mrs Mackay.'

‘Thank you.'

Nancy took the receiver. She'd been waiting for delivery of a new desk and it had been promised for Tuesday. She hoped the firm wasn't going to say there was some delay. Sometimes the phone seemed to ring all day, though Nancy was more confident now about dealing with enquiries, and she felt she was
managing
to cope .

‘Mrs Mackay speaking,' she announced crisply.

‘Nancy?'

‘Joe?' She was puzzled. Joe seldom rang her at work. Today he had a day's holiday and he'd planned to work in the garden, to get the ground ready to plant his sweet peas.

‘What is it?'

‘Now don't worry—I don't want to alarm you . . .'

‘Joe—' She was alert now. ‘What is it?'

Suddenly she felt that something must be terribly wrong. Why should Joe ring her out of the blue?

‘Tell me quickly.'

‘It's Matt,' Joe said. ‘There's been an accident.'

Nancy took a deep breath.

‘Go on,' she said, trying to keep her voice steady.

‘He's had a fall . . .'

‘Oh, no . . . he's . . . he's . . .' Her voice rose.

‘No, no. They think he's maybe broken a leg and cracked a few ribs.'

‘Where is he? What happened? Is he conscious?'

‘Now calm down.' Joe's voice was reassuring. ‘They've taken him to the hospital in Dunfermline. They've got to do some X-rays . . .'

‘Can I see him?' Nancy interrupted.

‘I'm
on my way. Go straight to the hospital, and I'll meet you there . . . Now don't get upset. They think he'll be OK. Get a taxi—and try not to worry . . .' He rang off.

Nancy put down the receiver.

‘I'm sorry.' Mr Hardy paused on his way out of the office. ‘Bad news?'

‘My son—he's a welder on the bridge—he's had a fall.' Nancy gulped. ‘This is what I've always been afraid of. They think he's got some broken bones but at least—' her voice broke—‘at least he's alive.'

She fumbled with the papers on her desk.

‘Those letters—they've to go off tonight. But I'd like to leave early, get a bus to the hospital.'

‘Forget the mail,' said Mr Hardy firmly. ‘You get your coat on. My car's just along the street—I'll run you to the hospital.' He silenced her protests. ‘The sooner you get there and see him for yourself, the sooner your mind will be at rest.'

Nancy managed a watery smile

‘That's—very kind of you. But—the office . . .'

‘We're closing early today,' her boss said firmly. ‘Come on, Nancy—get your coat and bag and we'll be off.'

* * *

Nancy followed the nurse down the corridor.
‘Is
he all right?' she asked anxiously.

‘Apart from the fracture and some bruising, yes. He'll be out of action for a bit, though.'

‘Matt, what happened!'

‘Hey, Mum—mind my leg.' Matt tried to joke, but he winced as he attempted to sit up.

‘Don't move,' said Nancy, thinking as she said it how stupid this sounded. ‘How did it happen?'

‘I don't know.' Matt frowned. ‘I just slipped. Lucky that Doug was just behind me . . . It could have been worse . . . '

Joe appeared at the door.

‘I got here as soon as I could, son.'

‘It's nothing really,' Matt said as cheerfully as he could. ‘Don't worry, Mum. I'll be out of here in no time and back to work.'

‘We'll see about that,' Nancy said grimly.

The staff nurse put her head round the door.

‘We're taking your son to X-ray, Mrs Mackay,' she explained. ‘And then the leg will be put in plaster.'

‘How long will he be here?' Nancy asked.

‘That depends on what the doctor says.'

The nurse turned to go.

‘I'll send a nurse with you to X-ray,' she added.

‘Don't wait,' Matt told Nancy. ‘Or you, Dad. I'll be OK.'

‘Come on, Nancy.' Joe put a hand on his wife's arm. ‘We'd better go. We'll be in later
this
evening with anything you need,' he told Matt.

‘It could have been a lot worse,' he said to Nancy as they left the ward.

* * *

‘I won't be in till late tonight,' Lorna said. She spooned up the last of her fruit yoghurt and reached for a piece of starch-reduced crispbread.

‘I'm meeting Pete,' she explained.

‘What about your tea ?' Nancy said evenly.

‘I'll have a sandwich after work, or a poached egg on toast in the café.'

‘If you're sure that's enough.'

‘Oh, Mum,' Lorna said affectionately, ‘don't worry, I won't starve.'

What a relief it was, thought Nancy, to know where Lorna was and who she was with. Pete was reliable—both she and Joe liked him. They seemed serious about each other, though Lorna was young yet to be thinking of settling down.

‘Shouldn't you have a cardigan, or a raincoat?'

Once, Lorna would have snapped at Nancy but now she just laughed.

‘You still think I'm a kid, don't you? It's not going to rain—I'll take a jacket, though.'

Nancy was getting ready to go to work.

‘Have a nice time, dear. And bring Pete for
a
meal next time he's got a day off.'

‘I'll do that.' Lorna went off, humming.

They'd agreed to meet at the bus station in Dunfermline and go to their favourite coffee bar. And at the weekend, maybe they'd go to the pictures.

It was still hot and sultry when she left the office.

‘Going to be a storm tonight,' she heard one of the other girls saying to her friend. ‘It's been a grand spell, but the weather's breaking.'

Lorna glanced out of the window at the heavy clouds. Oh well, she thought, it didn't matter. She'd soon be with Pete and they'd be inside the warmth of the coffee bar. And Pete was always prompt.

But when she reached the bus station there was no sign of him. Funny, she thought, it wasn't like Pete to be late. She looked around, but there was still no sign of him. Maybe the bus hadn't arrived.