Under the Bridges (3 page)

‘You're not thinking of working in a bar?' Joe had said when Bob's wife, Jenny, first asked Nancy if she'd like a job.

‘It's only to help Jenny out,' Nancy explained. ‘A bit of cleaning in the mornings, and some evenings, when they're busy. And we could use a bit extra . . . And you know Bob and Jenny...'

Joe had had to agree. They were a hardworking couple, trying to make a success of the bar. Now the Two Bridges was becoming known. There was always a cheerful welcome, and the bar had soon got a name for wholesome, well cooked meals.

But this morning Nancy didn't take the same pleasure in polishing the dark wood counter, and shining the glasses.

‘You're quiet today, Nancy,' Jenny said at last. ‘Is something wrong?'

‘No, nothing.'

Hands on hips, Jenny looked at her friend.

‘I
know you, there is something . . . And you've polished that surface till it's nearly worn away.'

Nancy grinned ruefully.

‘Come on,' Jenny spoke more gently.

‘Jenny—could you check these invoices . . . I've got to see to a delivery . . . 'Morning, Nancy . . .' His wife's warning look made him retreat hastily.

‘Come on, you can tell me,' Jenny coaxed her friend. ‘You look as if you've lost a half-crown and found a halfpenny.'

Nancy managed a smile.

‘Oh, Jenny. I shouldn't bother you with my worries.'

‘I think I can guess. It's your Lorna, isn't it?'

Nancy nodded.

Her mind went back to the previous Saturday evening. Joe liked to relax in front of the TV. He never missed ‘Scotsport', and sitting with a cup of tea and scone in front of the set—well, it was the best evening of the week.

Lorna had breezed into the living-room.

‘Shut the door behind you, will you?' Joe said without looking up.

‘Had a nice evening, dear?' her mother asked. ‘A Billy Fury film, wasn't it?'

Lorna had wondered how to approach the subject of Pete. Well, she was grown up, old enough to earn her own living. What could they say?

‘I
met a boy in the café. Nice lad.' Lorna looked pleased with herself.

‘What's his name?'

‘Pete.'

‘You'll bring him home, so we can meet him.' Nancy knew Lorna probably wouldn't, but it was worth suggesting.

Lorna took a deep breath.

‘I'm seeing him again. We're going dancing—'

‘What?' Joe was alert now. ‘You most certainly are not, until we know something about this lad. Bring him home to meet us, then we'll see.'

‘Oh, Joe,' Nancy pleaded. ‘Don't be so hasty . . .'

Lorna had stormed out of the room, and they heard her bedroom door slam.

Nancy looked at Joe.

‘You'd think you'd never been young yourself. Isn't that attitude a bit . . . well, old-fashioned?'

‘She's getting ahead of herself, that one,' Joe had mumbled. ‘I'm not having it.'

Now Nancy sighed.

‘They haven't spoken all weekend, Jenny. They're so stubborn, the two of them.'

Jenny smiled sympathetically.

‘Families, eh? Who'd have them?'

Nancy remembered with a pang that Jenny's only son was living in Canada. She only knew her grandchildren through photos and airmail
letters.

‘So what am I to do?' she asked, feeling tears prick at her eyes.

‘Nothing, love,' said Jenny. ‘Let them sort it out. Joe will calm down.' Big gentle Joe, Jenny knew, could flare up suddenly. But he'd never stay cross for long.

‘I hope so,' Nancy said with misgivings. ‘But I have a feeling there's trouble ahead.'

‘Well, there's no point in worrying now. What about that cup of tea before we start work?'

* * *

‘I can't do these sums.' Roy was sitting at the kitchen table, his homework jotter in front of him.

‘They're too hard.'

‘You're going to break that chair if you swing on it like that,' Nancy said, turning round from the sink.

The door burst open and Matt arrived like a whirlwind.

‘Sorry, Mum, could I have tea a bit early? We've football practice tonight.'

‘Oh, I'd forgotten. But that's no bother. Roy, I'll need to set the table. Could you move your books?'

Roy appealed to his brother.

‘Matt, can you do sums? We've a test on Friday.'

Matt
leaned over Roy's shoulder.

‘Oh, that's easy. To get the fraction, you divide by the bottom figure and multiply by the top one. See? No bother at all. Now you put in a bit of practice on these sums and if you do well in the test, I'll take you to see the Pars play on Saturday. That's a promise.'

‘Great!' Roy swept his books off the table and bolted from the room

Nancy smiled at her elder son. Not many young men of his age would have offered to take a young brother to a football match. Roy would be in seventh heaven.

‘Mrs Mackay!'

Nancy wished Shona McAllister wouldn't call keep calling her Mrs Mackay. She'd tried, without success, to make their relationship less formal.

‘Hallo, Shon—Miss McAllister.'

The young teacher smiled, and Nancy thought how pretty she was.

‘I can't remember if I told you I was to be out this evening . . . ?'

‘You did,' Nancy nodded. ‘Going somewhere nice?'

‘I think so,' Shona sounded vague. ‘There's . . . I mean, someone will be calling for me . . .'

‘Have a lovely time,' said Nancy, wondering who the ‘someone' was.

Just then, the doorbell rang.

‘That'll be for me,' Shona said hurriedly.

She whisked out of the room and Nancy
could
hear a deep voice greeting her. She resisted the temptation to look out of the window, but she couldn't help wondering . . .

Walter came through the gate at the same time, and stood back to allow Shona to pass.

‘Evening, Miss McAllister.'

She nodded a thank you.

My, but her boyfriend was doing well for himself, Walter thought, as he watched Shona settle into the passenger seat of a shiny new Hillman Minx. Her boyfriend was in a sharp suit. He glanced at Walter, but didn't speak.

Walter went indoors rather slowly, thinking how attractive Shona looked in that blue dress and jacket.

‘Tea's nearly ready,' called Nancy, and he forgot about Miss McAllister. It had been a long day and he was hungry.

That night the weather changed and the wind rose. Nancy woke several times during the night, hearing the rain beating against the window-panes.

Next morning, the gale still hadn't blown itself out.

‘They'll maybe halt the work on the bridge today,' Joe said at breakfast.

‘We lose a lot of days with the weather,' Walter told him. ‘Better that than losing men, though.'

* * *

Joe
glanced up sharply. He didn't like to hear such remarks when Nancy was around, knowing how much she worried about Matt.

Now Matt himself came thundering down the stairs, grabbing his jacket.

‘See you tonight,' Nancy called. ‘Take care of yourself.'

He gave her a cheery thumbs-up sign.

When she'd seen the family and the lodgers off to work, Nancy cleared the table. She'd put the washing on the line before she went to Jenny's. She switched on the wireless for ‘Housewives' Choice' and set about her work, humming happily to herself.

In no time the washing was on the line, billowing in a stiff breeze, and Nancy was ready to set off

‘You're early,' Jenny greeted her. ‘Time for a cup of tea before we start work.'

Towards two o'clock, Nancy finished the clearing up and took off her apron. ‘I'll be on my way then,' she said. ‘I'll be . . .'

She stopped in mid-sentence. As she opened the door, a police car, siren blaring, sped past, followed by a couple of ambulances.

‘I wonder what's happened,' Jenny said anxiously, gazing up the road to see where the cars had gone.

Before long, a small knot of people had gathered in the main road, looking up towards the giant towers of the bridge. A motorcyclist, coming from the opposite direction, stopped
when
he saw the small group.

‘It's young Kenny,' said someone. ‘What's happened?'

‘Don't know, but it's on the bridge,' the motorcyclist informed them. ‘An accident. Someone said it's one of the welders.'

Quickly, Jenny moved to put an arm round her friend.

‘Oh, Jenny.' Nancy's voice trembled. ‘You heard what he said. Oh, what if it's Matt?'

* * *

‘Suppose it's Matt! You heard what he said. One of the welders.' Nancy's voice shook. Jenny put an arm round her friend.

‘Now don't start fretting till we know what's happened. Come on, let's find out. It's better than waiting here for news.'

Jenny draped Nancy's coat round her shoulders, and the two friends made their way along the road.

Above them, the huge girders of the bridge loomed, dwarfing the small knot of people who had gathered when they heard the police sirens. One of the policemen gently shepherded the small group back to the pavement.

As Nancy and Jenny paused, craning upwards to see what was happening above, Nancy was aware of muted voices around them.

‘Someone's
hurt.'

‘Hope it's no' badly.'

‘A man falling from that height—he'd have little chance.'

Jenny drew her friend away from the group of women who had gathered at the roadside.

‘Ghouls,' she whispered. ‘There's some only want to be there to watch what's going on.'

Nancy turned round and caught a glimpse of Maisie Liddle—she worked behind the counter of a nearby sweet shop, and was known for her enjoyment of a good gossip. Nancy didn't know her well, but she'd often been in the shop.'

Sometimes, on her way to work, she'd popped in to The Chocolate Box to buy a treat for Jenny, who had a sweet tooth.

The last time Maisie had leaned over the counter.

‘I saw your girl. On my way to the bingo. All that black eye make-up. Like a panda! I wouldn't let a girl of mine out like that. And she was with a boy.'

* * *

Nancy had said nothing in reply but quickly paid for the chocolate and left the shop.

How dare she come and stare now? How dare she make an entertainment out of someone else's distress?

Brushing aside Jenny's arm, she stumbled
towards
Maisie, knowing she was here to find out what she could about the accident, and no doubt retell the news in the shop with all kinds of details added.

‘You . . .' Nancy began.

The older woman in the thick tweed coat and woollen headscarf turned round.

‘Oh, it's you, Mrs Mackay,' she murmured, and Nancy couldn't help noticing that Maisie's face was white and the usual bright orange lipstick was hurriedly applied. She looked shaken and anxious.

Maisie grasped Nancy by the arm.

‘I know you've a laddie up there. And so have I—it's my sister's boy.' Her voice trembled. ‘Rose is in hospital—I don't know how to tell her if anything's happened to Jackie. He's only ninteen, and a great lad. He was saving up to buy his mother one of these new transistors.'

Nancy felt suddenly ashamed.

‘The same age as my boy,' she said. ‘We must just hope they're safe.'

‘They've a good safety record on the bridge.' Jenny joined them. ‘There must be someone we can ask. I'll try to find out.'

She hurried away and Nancy stood silently watching as an ambulance drew up by the roadside, wishing Matt had wanted to serve his time as an electrician, or a joiner . . . safe in a workshop somewhere.

But she knew it was too late for regrets.
Only
a month ago, Matt had come home with the news that the cable spinning was finished. The last wires had been carried across the river. She remembered Walter once telling them that there was enough wire to stretch one and a quarter times round the equator. How they'd all joked and tried to imagine the wire going right round the earth.

* * *

But it was no laughing matter now. Oh, if only Matt wasn't up there, maybe hurt, maybe scared—maybe . . . But she wouldn't let herself think about that.

‘One of the welders,' young Kenny had said. She caught herself up—if it wasn't Matt, it would be someone else's boy.

She could hardly bear the waiting. Then Jenny appeared, hurrying through the crowd.

‘Here he is, your Mr Logan.'

Nancy felt a sudden chill as the tall figure of the foreman moved quickly through the crowd towards her.

‘Oh, Walter—' she cried out. ‘Is it Matt? Is he all right?'

‘There now, Mrs Mackay.' He put a reassuring hand on her arm. ‘Matt's all right.'

‘Oh, thank heavens!' Nancy could hardly speak. ‘But what . . . They said one of the welders . . .'

‘What's happened? Can you tell us?' The
other
women crowded around him.

Instinctively, Nancy reached out towards Maisie. ‘Your nephew . . .'

‘Jackie's his name, Jackie Watson.'

‘There's no-one of that name injured,' Walter said firmly. ‘In fact, it's not been a serious accident—though it could have been. One of the men slipped on the catwalk and fell .'

There was a gasp.

‘But he was caught in the safety net,' Walter went on. ‘He's probably broken his wrist and he's bruised and badly shaken, but they've got him—they're bringing him down now.'

‘Poor lad,' a voice said softly, and Nancy turned round to find Maisie beside her.

‘He's all right, your nephew,' Nancy said. ‘I'm glad about that.'

The older woman's voice shook.