The next day, Mallory decided to get stuck into organising her workshop. Hearing Greg talk about making a blackboard had given her the desire to get back to making things. It’ll be a good way to take my mind off everything.
She went upstairs into her room to hunt out her scruffy old denim dungarees. They were torn in places and covered in an array of coloured paint splats, but they were what she always wore when she was creating and they were so comfy. She pulled them on and walked over to the full-length mirror in the corner and looked at her figure. She remembered how Sam used to look at her when she wore them. That glint in his eye like he could devour her whole. She scraped her long, wavy, chocolate brown hair into a high ponytail and doubled the band over so that it sat in a knot atop her head.
Armed with her iPod and a bucket of soapy water, she walked up the uneven path to the little stone building at the top of the garden. She pushed open the rickety old wooden door and flicked on the light. There was a film of dust over every work surface and enough cobwebs and creepy-crawlies to make Tim Burton salivate. It really was like the set of a horror movie; she half expected Frankenstein or some other such monster to come crawling out of the woodwork. It was clear that the place hadn’t been used in earnest for years and Mallory decided that was about to change. She selected ‘Jagged Little Pill’ by Alanis Morissette from her playlist. Nothing like a bit of Alanis to belt out to whilst I’m cleaning, she mused and set to, cleaning and sweeping. It felt cathartic to be doing something physical. Maybe tonight I’ll sleep.
The old sink in the corner had a rusty old tap which wouldn’t even turn. So, after emptying the filthy, dank water from her bucket she went back into the house to refill it. Ruby followed her everywhere like a little four-legged shadow.
After a good three hours’ hard graft, the workshop was coming together nicely. The work surfaces along both lengths of the building were clean. The floor was swept and, to her delight, Mallory had discovered that under all the dirt there was a terracotta tiled floor. The pot sink was back to its original off-white and the whitewashed walls were free from cobwebs and spiders. It needed a lick of paint and maybe a noticeboard and some bright pictures to give her something pretty to look at whilst she worked.
She unpacked her various tabletop saws, sanders and routers from their boxes and placed them along one length of the work surfaces. Fortunately, she had discovered that the place appeared to have been rewired and so there were enough power points for all her gadgets.
Remembering Greg had talked about repairing taps at Colin’s, Mallory decided that she would venture over to the pub later and ask him what could be done to mend the one in the workshop so she could begin work straight away. She had an idea of a trade-off that would mean they both got a good deal out of the situation.
Once she had finished setting things up she made a quick inventory of her supplies and wrote a shopping list of things she would need. She decided she would go shopping the next day.
She showered away the grime and roughly dried her hair until it fell shaggily around her shoulders then she set about finding something to wear that didn’t need ironing. She found a pair of grey trousers and a red V-neck sweater that would do.
Once dressed, Mallory applied concealer to the ever-present, dark under-eye circles and a rose-coloured gloss to her lips. She pulled on her black boots and black waxed jacket and set off to the pub.
It was eight o’clock and the pub was lively with couples and families enjoying the home-cooked food. The aromas emanating from the kitchen made her stomach grumble in need of satiation. She wandered over to the bar and perched on a stool. Greg was serving a very well-spoken middle-aged gentleman who was enquiring about the local guest beers. Greg was imparting his knowledge and chatting pleasantly.
Greg finished serving the man and came over to her. Tonight, he was back to his normal attire; a black T-shirt with a strange emblem and the words A Perfect Circle on the front, black jeans and his cord necklace. She could still only see the very edges of the tattoo on his arm. He nodded in greeting but didn’t smile.
Hmm, back to the status quo then, eh? she said to herself.
‘You came out then,’ he said, stating the obvious.
‘I guess so, or else I’m a very realistic hologram.’ She too spoke without smiling.
‘Aye. Well, what you drinking? It’s on me.’ He flung the towel he was holding over his shoulder like some bartender in a western.
Wondering if she should order a Sarsaparilla as a joke, she paused for a moment. ‘As you’re buying, I’ll push the boat out and have a Jack and cola.’ She smiled. She hadn’t had one of those for months.
Greg recoiled. ‘Ugh! Have you no taste at all? First you ask for Jack when you’re in a Scottish pub selling the best single malts you’ll ever taste… then you kill it with cola?’ He closed his eyes and shook his head as if slowly realising he had just about done it again. He gulped. ‘I mean… coming right up.’ He wandered over to the glasses and measured out a double Jack, topping up the glass with cola. When he had placed the drink in front of her, he passed her a menu. ‘Steak pie is my recommendation, but see what you fancy.’ He walked away to serve someone else.
‘Nice chatting to you,’ she mumbled sarcastically, but he was out of earshot. She perused the menu and settled for the steak pie after all.
Once he was done serving he came back over and stood leaning on the bar in front of her. ‘What are you eating then?’ he asked sharply.
‘Well, you recommend the pie so I’ll go for that please.’ She tried to be pleasant, but he wasn’t making it easy with his brusque manner.
‘Mashed tatties or chips?’ he asked.
‘Mash please.’ She tried to hand him payment but he scrunched his brow and waved his hand dismissively. Argh, I can’t keep up.
‘Mash is for wussies. I’ll bring you chips.’ He grinned.
‘Oy! I said…’
He had already walked away through to the back. Git, she thought.
Mallory moved over to sit at a table near the roaring fire. She felt a little too conspicuous sitting there all by herself and surrounded by families and couples. She decided that she would eat and leave, preferring the company of her little black dog than that of a grumpy bartender and a room of strangers.
Eventually, Greg placed a huge, steaming plate of pie and chips in front of her and then walked away without a word. Shaking her head at his rudeness once again, she began to tuck in. She hated to admit it, but Greg was right, it was absolutely delicious. The chunks of steak were melt-in-the-mouth good and the pastry was short and buttery. She even had to admit that the home-made chips hit the spot nicely.
After a few minutes Greg appeared again, pulled up a chair and sat right opposite her at the table. He didn’t even have the courtesy to ask if it was okay. God, he could be arrogant and was clearly lacking in social etiquette.
He nodded at her plate of food. ‘Nice, eh?’
She nodded in agreement, chewing on a tender piece of succulent beef.
He smiled as if proud to be proved right, ‘Told you it was good.’
‘You did,’ she mumbled, still with a mouthful. He was a real master at stating the bloody obvious. She was now trying to decide which was worse: sitting alone to dine or having her mercurial audience of one. It was a tough one.
‘Anyway, have you got that workshop sorted yet?’ he enquired.
‘How did you know about that?’ she asked, trying to remember if she had ever mentioned that the house had a workshop.
‘The guy who lived there before, James McLaughlan, I did a bit of work for him a few years back. A bit of rewiring and stuff. He moved up north to be wi’ his family. Nice guy. He used to make wooden toys for the hospital and the hospice in Oban,’ he informed her.
‘Oh right, that’s nice.’ She thought that James must have been quite a man to do such thoughtful, selfless things.
‘Aye, he was a top bloke. Anyways, what are you going to do with the space?’
He was incredibly nosey, she decided.
‘I make things. It’ll be my workshop, if I stay.’ She put another forkful of the delectable pie into her mouth.
Her clipped answers weren’t having the desired effect and he continued, ‘Oh right, what do you make then?’
‘I make little signs with phrases on, picture frames, chalkboards and a few other bits and pieces.’ She decided there was no time like the present to put forward her proposal. ‘Funny you should mention the workshop actually.’ She swallowed the food and took a gulp of her Jack and cola.
His eyes narrowed suspiciously. ‘Aye? Why’s that?’
‘Well you mentioned earlier that you were fixing Colin’s tap and I wondered if you could come and have a look at the sink in the workshop?’ She hesitated. ‘If you have the time, obviously, no pressure.’
‘Oh right. Aye, I could come and have a wee look. What seems to be wrong wi’ it?’
‘It won’t budge.’
Greg looked thoughtful, scrunching his eyes up as if trying to do a mental calculation.
She placed her cutlery down. ‘If you can, I thought maybe I could make you that chalkboard you mentioned when I saw you earlier. You know by way of payment and to save you a job.’
Greg smiled and held out his hand towards her. ‘Got yourself a deal, Mallory.’ They shook on it. ‘I’ll come around tomorrow and have a wee look if you like?’
‘Great.’ That was easier than she had expected. She smiled, relieved and thinking maybe he wasn’t as grumpy as she had previously thought.
‘I’ll bring you a dessert menu,’ he said, whisking away her plate before she’d really had time to decide if she’d finished or not. She was too full to even consider a dessert and so she decided to make a quick exit before he could return. She felt a little guilty, but figured he would get over it.
She stood outside briefly to gaze up at the stars. It was a very clear night and there was little uplight so she could make out millions of tiny white dots of light and a few constellations that she learned about from her dad on their ‘Munro bagging’ camping trips; a thing that sounded more like the pastime of highwayman instead of the ticking off of mountains climbed.
This sky took her back to one of the times her dad had taken her out onto the Yorkshire moors when she was around eight years old. They had packed a flask of hot chocolate and Mum had given them a Tupperware box of home-made flapjack. They packed her dad’s telescope and set out at ten o’clock on a chilly October night. They had pulled up in the middle of a picnic area car park near Sutton Bank and gazed up at the stars from the boot of the old car. She had snuggled up to her dad with a little mug of the sweet chocolaty drink as he had pointed out Orion and The Plough; Mars and Venus. They had looked at the clear image of the face on the moon and had named him Boris, just because it was funny and suited his expression. Her dad was such a kind and gentle man; and a wonderful father.
Smiling at the memory, she walked towards the Sealladh-mara cottage. The fire was welcoming when she opened the front door and so was Ruby. It was almost ten and she felt exhausted after her busy day. She couldn’t be bothered to watch TV or read so she let Ruby into the back garden and on her return into the house gave her a little cuddle.
‘Come on Rubes. Time for bed.’ The two companions went up to Mallory’s room where she undressed, brushed her teeth in the little en-suite and pulled on her snuggly pyjamas. She climbed into bed and switched off her lamp. Ruby made her way to her favourite place; under the covers beside Mallory’s feet. Mallory smiled when she thought back to the first time Sam had stayed over…
*
January 2014
‘Well, I don’t know about you my little love muffin, but I’m bushed.’ Sam stretched once the film they had been watching had finished. The movie, The Hangover, had been both hilarious and cringe-worthy.
‘Yup, me too.’ Mallory got up from the beat-up old sofa and took the empty popcorn package and wine glasses into the kitchen. ‘You go on up, I’m just going to wash these few dishes whilst you do your teeth.’
Sam followed her into the kitchen, slid his arms around her waist and nuzzled her neck. ‘Mmm, are you sure you’re okay with me staying over? It’s not too soon is it?’ They had been seeing each other for a few weeks but, apart from Christmas, they had been virtually inseparable since that first passionate night.
‘Of course I don’t mind. It’s been three weeks and every night you’ve gone home I’ve missed you like crazy.’ She arched her neck and he nibbled her earlobe, sending shivers down her spine.
‘Okay, well I’m glad you feel the same, Miss Yorksherrr,’ he purred. ‘Now don’t be long, we have some serious heavy petting to do when you come up.’ He squeezed her bottom and made his way upstairs.
Mallory nibbled at her lips, but couldn’t stop them pulling upwards into a grin that almost made her face hurt.
She finished up the dishes as quickly as possible and went upstairs, Ruby following closely behind. Sam had finished in the bathroom and was lying in bed, in all his scrumptious, naked glory. Mallory brushed her teeth, washed her face and climbed in beside him in her own birthday suit. He groaned with pleasure when he felt her naked skin against his own.
Suddenly he jumped out of bed. ‘WHAT THE FU—!!’ He switched the light on.
Mallory sat up abruptly. ‘What on earth is it?’ she panicked.
Sam flung the covers back from the bottom of the bed to discover a bleary-eyed Ruby staring up at him from her usual spot beside Mallory’s feet and they both collapsed in fits of hysterical laughter.
‘I thought… I thought…’ Sam gasped, trying to get his words out between loud guffaws. ‘That you must either be the hairiest woman I’ve ever met, or worse still that you had a huge hairy pet tarantula that you’d forgotten to tell me about!’ He held his stomach.
Tears of laughter streamed down Mallory’s cheeks as she visualised herself braiding her leg hair whilst holding the leash attached to her giant pet spider. When their laughter had subsided, they were both drained. They cuddled up together, feet either side of the little black dog who seemed unfazed by the whole episode. Every so often one of them would give a little chuckle until eventually they dozed off.
*
May 2015
Mallory awoke and felt a little strange. She looked around to discover that she was standing at the midpoint of the Atlantic bridge. Had she been sleepwalking? Confusion clouded her mind.
‘Hey, Miss Yorksher,’ a familiar voice came from behind where she stood. She spun to the direction of the voice; heart pounding. A familiar handsome face smiled warmly at her.
Her mouth fell open. ‘Wh-what’s happening? You… you’re…’ She gasped for breath, shaking her head; not quite understanding the surreal situation she found herself in.
Sam stroked warm fingers down her cheek. ‘Don’t worry, baby, you’re dreaming.’
‘No, you’re real… you… you seem real.’ Mallory felt her eyes well up with tears. It couldn’t be a dream. She didn’t want it to be a dream.
‘Let’s not dwell on that, I’m here now. Let’s make the most of it, huh?’ He enveloped her in his arms and for the first time in weeks a calm serenity washed over her as she melted against him. The familiar feelings surfaced as she nuzzled his neck and he sighed. ‘I wanted to ask you about something you said today.’
‘Mmm, anything.’ She didn’t want to let go. But she gazed up into the emerald eyes that locked lovingly with hers.
‘You said that the workshop would be where you would run your business if you stay.’ How could he know this? Thoughts buzzed around in her mind like bees around a hive, but then reality hit and she realised that this was most likely an interaction with her subconscious.
‘I feel lonely without you, Sam. I don’t know if I want to stay here. Maybe I should go home.’
‘You are home, Mallory. This is where you and I wanted to be. Your heart is here. Look at where you end up on every walk you take and even in your dreams.’ Mallory looked around her and took in the beautiful scenery from the bridge. The sun was beginning to rise over the sea and the sky was an array of glowing orange shades, causing a glistening sheen on the water as if it were on fire. He was right.
‘But how do I cope without you?’ she sobbed, nuzzling into him once again.
‘You remember the wonderful times we had, just like my mom said. You make friends. You start to do what you love in that workshop and it’ll all work out right.’ He paused, squeezing her into him, almost as if to buffer her from the blow he was about to deliver. ‘At some point, Mallory, you will have to scatter the ashes.’
She shook her head frantically, looking up at him in desperation. ‘No! I can’t do that. It’d be like losing you all over again!’ Her heart ached at the thought.
‘No, Mallory, it’s something you need to do. I’m not in that urn, baby. I’m in here and in here.’ He touched first over her heart and then her head. ‘You need to set the ashes free into all the places we’ve visited and loved up here. When you’re ready, you’ll know.’ He let go of her and turned to walk away. ‘Remember how much I loved you, Miss Yorksher… with all of my heart.’
She felt physical pain and grabbed for him but he was out of reach. She tried to run after him but couldn’t move. Her feet seemed glued to the bridge.
‘Sam! Saaam! SAM!!’
She lurched to a sitting position; covered in sweat, or tears, or a mixture of the two; heart pounding; breathing ragged. How cruel to dream such a realistic vision of her beloved and then have it snatched away so quickly. Ruby appeared at the side of her, nuzzling her hand where it lay clutched into the bedclothes.
When her breathing and heart rate finally resembled normal, she looked at her clock: six forty-five. She lay back and tried to recapture the dream, but it was no good. A whirlwind of emotions swept through her mind, scattering her thoughts like torn pieces of newspaper on the breeze. She tried to replay the dream in her memory; thinking and rethinking the conversation, but her attempts were futile and so she went downstairs. Ruby followed.
Mallory ate breakfast on the patio, in her checked pyjamas with unbrushed bed hair. The sun warmed her skin as she drank her freshly brewed coffee and looked over the jungle that, at some point, she was sure, used to resemble a cottage garden. It certainly needed work.
She had found an area of ground near the workshop, yesterday, that had been formerly used as a vegetable patch. There were still a few pegs with seed packets and labels attached, pointing out where potatoes and other veggies had been grown. That was a project she quite fancied attempting, she decided.
She heard a thudding which she eventually realised was coming from the front door. She checked the kitchen clock which read eight a.m. Who the heck would be calling around this early? she huffed, making her way through the house to find out.
Greg stood there in a sleeveless T-shirt and combat pants. ‘Morning! Am I too early? Just thought I’d call in as I was out and about so… shall I have a look at that tap?’ It is too early and it’s not that bloody warm, she mentally rolled her eyes at his attire and his persistence to turn up in front of her uninvited. She guessed he was trying to be friendly but this just affirmed that he had no social skills whatsoever.
‘I’m not exactly… er…’ she gestured at her pyjamas, hoping he would get the hint.
He trailed his eyes down to her attire and back up to her face. Smiling, he said, ‘Oh, no bother, they’re very fetching. Get the kettle on, eh?’
Good grief, this man takes no hints. She pursed her lips at the smiling buffoon in front of her. Reluctantly she let him in with his large metal toolbox.
‘Shall I just go away up there? I know my way,’ he said, walking past her.
‘Why not, you probably will anyway,’ she chuntered under her breath.
Greg paused and turned to her. ‘Sorry? I didn’t catch that.’
She mustered up as much cheeriness as she could manage. ‘Yes, sure go on up, it’s open. I’ll get the kettle on.’
Whilst the coffee was brewing, she dashed upstairs and changed into lounge pants and a hoodie and when the coffee was ready, she trudged up the garden, with minimal enthusiasm, to the workshop.
When she had made the suggestion to Greg, she had expected a little notification of his intention to call round, or for the visit to at least be at a more reasonable time of day. She felt guilty for being so negative; he was doing her a huge favour after all. She pushed the door open with her bottom and found Greg lying on the floor under the sink. She placed the coffee down and leaned against the work surface.
‘How bad is it?’ she enquired, hoping the answer would be a positive one.
‘Hard to say at the moment, the nuts are all seized… and there’s nothing worse than seized nuts!’ He laughed heartily at his own joke. Mallory chuckled. It was quite funny after all.
She took out her iPod from her pocket and attached the little speaker. Selecting a Foo Fighters track list, she placed it down to create some background noise and Greg began to sing along as he worked.
He poked his head out from where he laid. ‘So you’re one of these gadget types, eh?’ He nodded towards the iPod. ‘I prefer CDs mysel’. Or even better, vinyl.’ He said the word like it was something awe-inspiring and Mallory shook her head, bewildered, as he disappeared once again.
She stood and drank her coffee in silence as he faffed around with spanners, hammers and bolts under her sink. She realised she had a very clear view of his tattoo now – something she had been curious about since her first encounter with Greg. She had always had a fascination with ink, but had never dared go under the needle herself. Greg’s tattoo was puzzling. The image showed the alphanumeric ‘K2’ wrapped in barbed wire.
‘That’s an interesting tattoo on your arm, Greg, what does it mean?’
Greg stopped working and sat up. He pretended to examine the mangled bit of metal in his hand. ‘Ah, it’s just something I had done last year,’ he said, glancing up at her. His expression told her he wasn’t going to elaborate.
‘Oh right. Why K2? What’s the significance?’ she pushed, figuring he had been personal, so why couldn’t she?
He rose to his feet, scraping his hair back off his face. ‘Maybe it’s a story for another time, eh?’ He came to where she stood, took a gulp of his coffee and went back to work.
That’s the end of that conversation then, she surmised. She decided to take the empty cups back into the house and jump in the shower.
‘I’ll be in the house if you need anything, okay?’ She didn’t wait for an answer.
She felt refreshed after she had showered, towel-dried her hair and applied moisturiser. When she was dressed again, she returned to the workshop where Greg was stood wiping his hands.
‘You finished already?’ Mallory enquired, hopeful.
‘Na. You’ll need a new tap. I’ll pick one up and come back to fit it tomorrow if that’s okay?’
‘Sure, if you don’t mind. I don’t want to keep you from anything.’
‘It’s fine. I’ll squeeze it in. It’s not a massive job. I’ve got to go now ’cause I’m working on my boat this afternoon and I need to get lunch before I go.’ He tucked the dirty cloth into his back pocket and closed his toolbox.
‘Oh, I could’ve made you some sandwiches or something to take, it’s the least I could do.’
‘I’m quite capable of making my own sandwiches, thank you,’ he snapped.
Seriously, what is his problem? She opened her mouth to snap back, but thought better of it. ‘Fine. See you later then.’ She wasn’t sure what she had done wrong.
‘I’ll see myself out.’ He walked away. As he did so his mobile rang. ‘Aye, what is it? No, I’m just finishing a job… Where did they find it?’ He froze. ‘Aye, okay. Thanks for letting me know.’ He shook his head as he hung up the call and turned to look at Mallory, ‘See you tomorrow.’ There was a hint of sadness to his gaze. Before she could ask if he was okay, he was gone. Mallory wondered what the call was about. It sounded serious judging by his reaction but knowing how he could change on a halfpenny she decided it was probably best that she hadn’t asked.
After lunch, Mallory decided she would go for a walk with Ruby. This had become somewhat of a daily routine now and she enjoyed the fact the weather was improved of late. This time she decided to take a slightly different route, avoiding the bridge for once. As she walked past the houses adjacent to her own and in the direction of the pub, one of the neighbours waved to her. She seemed to remember her name was Aileen. After the funeral she had called around with a pot of Irish stew which Brad had devoured in one sitting. It was a good job Mallory had no appetite at the time as she didn’t get a look in.
‘Good afternoon! Good to see you out and about, hen,’ the neighbour called.
Mallory waved back and smiled. It brought tears to her eyes when people she hardly knew showed such kindness.
She continued on and walked to the right past the pub which was closed. She wondered how Greg was. He had been brusque on leaving this morning, but he seemed to be upset by the call he had received. Perhaps it had been bad news. She’d have to try and cut the guy a little slack, after all she knew there was something painful in his recent past and she could understand what that was like.
She called into the little shop to get a bottle of water.
The shop owner, Colin, greeted her with a huge friendly smile and then came around the counter to give her a hug. ‘Oh Mallory, it’s so good to see you out.’ He stepped back, holding her at arm’s length. ‘I know we don’t know you all that well, but if you need anything, anything at all…’ He didn’t need to finish the sentence.
She smiled and nodded, biting her cheek to halt the tears that threatened. He was such a kind, thoughtful man.
‘I was wondering, Colin, I’d like to get some fresh air and see some nice views. Where’s the best place to do that without having to go by car?’
Colin tapped his chin as he thought. ‘You know what? You need a boat trip.’ He proceeded to give her directions down to the marina where there was a daily outing run by one of the locals. He said that she would get to skim the coast and see some stunning views and maybe even some seals. It sounded perfect.
She set off with a renewed enthusiasm, following the directions Colin had given. When she arrived at the little marina she stood for a few minutes to take in the view. There was a scruffy old chalkboard displaying the words:
BOAT TRIPS ON LITTLE BLUE
£10 PER PERSON
DOGS FREE
She looked around for the captain and spotted someone with their back to her. He was wearing a woolly hat, which was odd considering it was now May and it wasn’t cold. He turned and spotted her and a grin spread across his face. Greg.
He waved. ‘Hey, you’re out again. It’s becoming a habit.’
Why did everyone greet her as if she’d been in prison? And why is he so mercurial? she wondered as she strolled towards the boat.
‘This is you then, eh?’ she asked, gesturing at the boat. She wondered how many jobs this guy actually had. ‘I hadn’t twigged that you did excursions when you said you were working on your boat this afternoon.’
‘Aye, it’s my day job.’ He smiled. ‘You up for a trip out?’ he asked, almost looking hopeful.
‘Why not? I could do with a bit of fresh air. How many of us will there be?’ She wondered where the other passengers for the trip were.
‘You’re it.’ He carried on making the boat ready. ‘Bit of a slow day. I was just about to give up and go out by myself.’
She suddenly felt a little uncomfortable. ‘Are you sure you want me to tag along?’
‘Aye, why not? I get sick o’ my own company. Get enough of it, day in day out.’ He held out his hands and she passed Ruby over and then she blushed as she took his hand, stepping onto ‘Little Blue’. She held out a ten-pound note, but he waved it away. His unwillingness to take her money was becoming a regular thing.
She gestured to the sign. ‘Cute name. The boat, I mean,’ she clarified. She watched as he tightened ropes and did a lot of other things that she didn’t really have a clue about.
‘Aye, named it after my old dog; had him as a boy. He was a black lab and when he was a pup he almost looked like there was a blue tinge to his fur, hence the name.’ Greg gestured to Mallory to take a seat which she did immediately.
‘Aww, that’s sweet.’ Mallory saw yet another new side to this man she hardly knew. She looked out into the distance as Greg started the engine and steered the boat away from its mooring.
‘Do you want the running commentary that I give to all my passengers?’ Greg enquired of the sole occupant of the boat trip.
She gave him a puzzled glance.
‘You know…’ He gestured out to sea. ‘And on my left we have a seal and on my right, oh look there’s another seal.’ He chuckled.
She smiled and rolled her eyes at him. ‘No, it’s okay. I just wanted to get some fresh air, to be honest. Colin in the shop recommended a boat trip. Feel free to pretend I’m not here.’ Mallory sighed and closed her eyes as she faced into the sea breeze. Ruby’s front paws were propped on the side of the boat as she looked out too, her little tail wagging.
When they got far enough away from the coast, Greg switched off the engine and took out a flask. He sat opposite Mallory and passed her an empty tin mug. ‘Thought we could sit and chill for a bit here, is that okay? It’s usually a good place for seal spotting.’ He poured coffee into her cup.
She wasn’t sure how she felt really. But she was enjoying being out in the fresh air. ‘Yes, I suppose. Am I not keeping you from anything? Another job perhaps?’ She smiled
He shook his head and took a slurp of his coffee. ‘Na, Pub at night, boat trips three days a week and odd jobs two days a week… oh and entertainer on my nights off now, that’s me.’ He sounded so matter-of-fact.
‘Crikey! I’m not sure I could keep up with all that. I think I’ll just stick to making stuff, plain and simple.’ The thought of juggling several jobs bewildered her.
‘Aye, you should do that. It’s good to have something to focus on at times like this,’ he said, knowingly.
Her inquisitive streak was surfacing again. She wanted to pry about his situation but wasn’t sure if she should. An awkward silence descended and she could feel Greg watching her. She suddenly felt sad again; lost even.
He leaned forward resting his elbows on his knees. ‘It sounds like a cliché, but it does get easier with time.’ He looked down at his coffee. ‘You just need to keep busy.’
‘Is that what you’re doing with your gazillion different jobs?’ she asked.
He glanced up and they made eye contact. For a brief moment, there was a sympathetic look in his dark gaze. But suddenly something changed in his demeanour and the shield he evidently protected himself with slipped into place yet again.
He straightened up in his seat and took another sip of his steaming drink. ‘Na. I like the variety. Don’t get bored that way.’ Why he kept reassuring her in one breath and putting up the shutters in the next one, she could only wonder. ‘Anyway, it’s good that you’re getting out and about. No point sitting and wallowing in self-pity, eh?’
Affronted by his insinuation that she was somehow enjoying her current situation, she huffed. ‘Thanks for your concern, I think. But I’m not wallowing, as you so eloquently put it. I’m grieving; there’s a difference.’
‘Aye what I meant is you should nae be on your own all the time. If you were my little sister I’d be keeping an eye on you, is all I’m saying.’
‘Well, thankfully I’m not your little sister. I’m a twenty-nine-year-old woman with her own life and I’m fine with Ruby for company, thank you. Don’t be so bloody patronising.’ It was her turn to avoid eye contact and look out to sea now.
They sat in silence for quite a while.
‘So, you made any other friends in the village yet?’ Greg asked.
Mallory let out a surprised snort at his hint that they were friends and then immediately felt cruel. ‘Sorry. That was mean. I was just surprised to hear you class yourself as my friend,’ she explained. ‘We haven’t exactly got along very well since we met, wouldn’t you agree?’ Greg looked hurt and she felt terrible. ‘Great, now it’s my turn to put my foot in it, eh?’ He didn’t answer. She had clearly hurt his feelings and they sat in silence again.
Suddenly he leaned forward. ‘Look, I know I can be an arse, all right? I’ve never had a female friend, I suppose. I’ve two brothers who never dare let me meet their girlfriends for fear I’ll speak to them how I speak to you. I spend a lot of time on my own, by choice I hasten to add, and I feel sorry for you.’
Anger at his words knotted Mallory’s insides. ‘You feel sorry for me?’ she spat. ‘I don’t want you to go out of your way to be your version of nice simply because you pity me.’ She was horrified and it showed as her voice rose.
‘No, you misunderstand me.’ His voice rose too now, ‘That’s not what I meant. See? This is why I don’t do… this.’ He waved his hand back and forth between them.
‘What are you on about? You don’t do what?’
He placed his cup down and rubbed his hands over his face. He was clearly exasperated, but Mallory wasn’t sure with whom: her or himself.
‘Look, that night on the beach, I really felt your pain.’ He paused as if calculating each sentence. ‘I felt so terrible for what you were going through. I understood… I understand.’ He looked skyward as if the words he was searching for may be written up there. ‘It’s not pity, it’s… it’s… argh… what’s the fuckin’ word?’ He raised his hands up in a swift ‘Eureka’ type of gesture. ‘Empathy!’
Mallory’s eyes began to sting as tears threatened. He was relentless. Couldn’t he just shut up?
Clearly, he couldn’t as he took a deep breath and leaned forward towards her again; his voice had calmed. ‘I know how hard it is. You’re in a strange place where you hardly know anyone and you’ve lost the one person in your life that would’ve made that whole situation okay.’ He took off his hat and ran his hands through his flattened hair. ‘I get that. I get what you’re going through. I felt I wanted to help – no that I needed to help, but it turns out I keep making it worse.’ He peered into Mallory’s eyes again. ‘Oh, fuck and now I’ve fuckin’ made you cry again.’
Mallory sniffed and wiped at her eyes. ‘It’s fine. I’m not your responsibility!’ she exclaimed. ‘I get that you understand, but every time I try to ask you anything, you go all mean and moody on me. I have no clue how to take you. If you want to be friends you have to change how you act around me. I can’t do with trying to second-guess your mood and wonder if I’ve overstepped the mark.’
He slid over to sit next to her. ‘Right, this is stupid. Can we please just fuckin’ start over, eh?’ He clamped his hand over his mouth. ‘Fuck, I’m sorry I keep swearing.’
Mallory smirked. ‘It’s fucking fine! Just don’t fucking do it again, okay? It’s fucking rude!’ she shouted. They stared at each other and then burst out laughing.
Once they had calmed down a little, Greg nudged Mallory’s shoulder with his own. ‘So, I’m guessing you’ll want to know my story, then, eh?’
She felt a little guilty for pushing him again. ‘Only if you want to tell me. We still don’t know each other from Adam.’
‘Aye, well, I know your stuff so I guess it’s only fair.’ He inhaled deeply. ‘What are your burning questions?’
She thought about it for a moment. ‘Look, it’s up to you how much you do or don’t say. I know that you lost someone. Maybe you can just leave it there if you prefer?’
He closed his eyes for a moment. ‘She was my girlfriend.’
Mallory glanced at him as he subconsciously rubbed his wedding ring indentation.
‘She was the love of my life, if the truth be known,’ he went on. ‘I’d been separated from my wife for a few years after she cheated on me with my best mate and I hadn’t been bothered about finding love at all. Didn’t think I could trust anyone again. Until I met Mairi up near The Buachaille, or as you might know it the Buckle, by Glen Etiv whilst I was travelling around, camping.’ Things were beginning to fall into place. His surly manner, the wedding ring indentation. He’d been hurt badly. But his affection for Mairi was clear as he continued, ‘She was absolutely mad about climbing.’ He smiled and closed his eyes. ‘She’d started as a wee bairn with her dad, travelling all over the place just to climb. That’s what she was doing when I met her. She called it Munro bagging… Oh, err, that means that she—’
Mallory interrupted him, ‘Greg, my name is Mallory, I was named after a mountaineer. My dad was a mountaineer. I know what Munro bagging is.’ She nudged him.
‘Oh, of course. I forgot.’ He rolled his eyes and carried on. ‘Anyway, to cut a long story short, she’d done all the big climbs in the UK and most of the European ones. She was one of the youngest female climbers ever to achieve Scottish Grade 3 and she’d been dreaming of something even bigger. She’d been saving up to go to Pakistan since she was a teenager. It was all she could go on about. Her face just lit up when she talked about it.’ He paused as if finding it difficult to continue.
He cleared his throat. ‘She was so beautiful. But when she talked about climbing…’ He shook his head as he trailed off. ‘I’ve always been quite outdoorsy myself. She managed to convince me to go with her a couple of times, but I just didn’t get it like she did. In fact, if I’m honest, it scared the willies out of me being so high up.’ He laughed. ‘Last year she met up with a team of professional climbers who she contacted through one of the big climbing websites she was always going on. They’d arranged a trip out to Pakistan and invited her along. She had the money and asked me if I minded. How could I mind? I wasn’t going to stand between her and her dreams, was I? Anyway, they set off in June to climb K2. She was in touch until they started the main ascent and then… nothing.’
Mallory didn’t quite understand. ‘What do you mean nothing?’
Greg huffed the air out of his lungs. ‘The news stations over there reported a freak storm.’ His eyes welled up with tears. The memories clearly still very vivid and equally as painful. ‘None of the team made it down. The bodies were never recovered. I never saw her again. I never got to say goodbye and my sweet, sweet girl was gone.’ His voice trailed off. A shiver travelled down Mallory’s spine. ‘I went out to Pakistan to see what else I could find out, but they gave up searching pretty damn quickly. She was declared dead on August twentieth along with the rest of her team.’ He spoke through clenched teeth as he pinched the bridge of his nose with his finger and thumb. His anger was evident. ‘This morning at your house, I had a call to say they had found what they thought was part of her kit. Turns out it wasn’t hers.’
‘The tattoo… is that for Mairi?’ Mallory asked carefully, not really knowing if she should.
‘Aye. K2, the wretched place. The barbed wire represents the pain that place caused me. It’s there as a reminder that you have to be careful what you wish for.’
She understood. Completely. ‘I’m so sorry, Greg. I’m sorry for being so hard on you. I do understand.’ She smiled at her unlikely kindred spirit. There was a long pause before she went on, ‘I dreamt about Sam last night. It was so real. He spoke to me about my fears around staying here. I told him I wanted to go back to Yorkshire, but in my dream, he said I should stay.’ Her own eyes began to blur with tears again as she recalled how lifelike the vision of Sam had been.
Greg’s eyes widened. ‘Really? Wow. I bet it was hard to wake up from that dream, eh?’
‘So, so hard. I keep expecting to see him standing on the bridge; or for him to come through the door and apologise for being late.’
‘Aye, I know what you mean. Every time I see a girl with long red hair I want to rush up and grab her to see if it’s Mairi… then I realise it can’t be.’ He thought for a moment, ‘So you’ve seriously been thinking about leaving, eh?’ He seemed surprised.
‘To be honest I just don’t know what to do. I have friends back in Yorkshire. I have my shop… but this is where Sam wanted us to be. This is where we wanted to be together. I think I feel closer to him here than I would in Yorkshire; even though I met him there.’
‘I get that. Every so often I take off up to The Buckle, the mountain where I met Mairi. There’s a turn off the main road that leads to Glen Etiv. I usually park in the little lay-by just past the bridge. A bit further up there’s this little rock where I like to sit. There’s an amazing view of the Buckle from there. I like to wait for the sunrise. I just sit there looking at the changing colours of the dawn. I take my sleeping bag and sleep under the bridge for a couple of nights. I feel her there, you know?’
Mallory nodded as everything about him seemed to click into place. After all she was the same when she stood on the little stone bridge near her new home.
Greg fiddled with his hat, looking lost in his thoughts. ‘You don’t need to feel lonely here, you know,’ Greg informed her after a few minutes of a more comfortable silence. ‘People around here are great. They’re warm, friendly people. From what I’ve heard, folks have nice things to say about you. It’s funny, you know; some people can move here and be here for years and never fit in. Not you, though. People love you already.’ He sat upright, turning to look at her. There was a glint in his eyes that she hadn’t witnessed before. ‘Hey, you know what you should do?’
Mallory was sceptical about what was coming next. ‘Hmm, you seem rather excited and that worries me.’ She squinted at him suspiciously.
‘A way to meet people. Stella is looking for an extra bartender for the evenings. I could put a word in for you,’ he suggested.
Mallory thought about it for a moment. She didn’t really need the money but it’d give her something to focus on; evenings were going to be difficult. But panic started to take over when she realised she was actually considering this. ‘But I have no clue how to pull a pint and I can’t add up in my head.’
‘Aye, well I can train you to pull pints and we have an electronic cash register, you know. We don’t live in the dark ages up here.’
‘Okay, well, have a word with her then. I could come in for a trial to see if I like it and if Stella likes me.’ Her words fell so easily from her lips that they took her by surprise. She had once again unexpectedly stepped out of her comfort zone and like all the other times she wondered if she might live to regret it.
‘Aye, well Stella employs me don’t forget, so being likeable can’t be one of the requirements.’ Greg laughed and Mallory joined in, thinking his self-deprecation was kind of sweet.